


Enchanté

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fantasy, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Porn Without Plot, Romance, Sexual Content, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14836271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: Marinette reluctantly plays along with a dating simulator after waking up as a superhero, seducing her new best friend, Adrien, and her superhero partner, Chat Noir. Twice. AU.





	Enchanté

**Author's Note:**

> Do you know what's awkward? This was supposed to be short, one fourth of the length, and shameless smut. It just started to have feelings and a lot of dialogue, which meant it took weeks to try and finish. It's filled with clichés, but I couldn't fit in all the ones I wanted to use. I'm classing this as porn without plot because of the ending, still. So, yes, enjoy this explicit dating sim story which has all four pairings of the lovesquare.

 

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

**START ROUTE:  
** _ADRIENETTE_

She blinked.

Groggily, Marinette sat up in her bed, pressing the palm of her hands into her eyes as she tried to wake herself up, aware of the music that was playing in the room. It didn't sound like her ringtone, and she definitely hadn't invited anyone back with her the night before.

The room didn't look familiar, that was the first thing she thought what she looked around. The walls were a neutral beige, furniture white, and the room was cramped and small. She scrambled out of the bed, glancing around to see whether anyone else was there, and had a hand over her fast-beating heart when she realised that she was alone.

It looked like a tiny dorm-room, design similar to the one she'd lived in previous for her second year of university. She'd saved up and splurged to share an apartment with a friend after dealing with the loud music too often, but that didn't solve the problem of the irritating tune that was accompanied by audible vibrating.

She found the source to be a unfamiliar cell phone underneath the pillow.

“Marinette?” was said when she pressed accept, the voice distinctly masculine and as unfamiliar as the room to her. “Did you forget that we have plans?”

She hadn't even gone _out_ the previous night. Marinette had stayed up late, watching a new television show that had been released, happy to stay up to the early hours of the morning since she didn't have classes the following day. There had been no time to meet someone, nor go to their place; there wasn't any reason for her to be anywhere else but her own bed.

And yet, she was in a small and squished bedroom. Looking around proved that there was a connecting bathroom just for her use—not communal—but it was when her gaze fell to the desk that her breath caught in her throat.

The pictures that were framed all had her in them; some with her family, others with unfamiliar faces that she didn't know the names of, but she was almost always the one that was extending her hand out to hold the camera.

Her attention was brought back by a loud call of, “ _Marinette_!”

Right. She'd almost forgotten that she was on the phone.

“What?” she started cautiously, running a hand through her dark-coloured hair. It didn't feel any different; still a few inches below her shoulders with the bangs that she preferred.

“Are you going to let me in?” he questioned with a sigh, sounding far too familiar with her. “You know I can't get in without your key, no matter how much you want to stay in bed.”

The mirror proved that her appearance hadn't changed; still the same pale skin, blue-coloured eyes, and monolids that she'd grown up with. Marinette frowned at herself, pinching her arm and withdrawing her hand with a hiss of pain when she felt it. It—it made no sense, but it couldn't have been real. She clearly remembered her actions of the previous day, and she was a light enough sleeper that anyone entering her room would've woken her up—and the thought that anyone would've wanted to kidnap her seemed insane as it was.

So, clad in the pyjamas that she'd definitely slept in, Marinette cautiously went for the door before she paused with her fingers wrapped around the handle.

She swallowed.

“Who are you?”

A laugh sounded. “Come on, I know you wanted to nap after staying up studying with me last night, but you can't play the amnesia card to try and sleep away our promise.”

She hung up, tossing the cell phone back onto the bed.

Either he was deluded or she was in some sort of a fever dream.

Marinette peered outside of the bedroom, taking in the hallway that had three similar doors adjacent to her own before an archway that seemed to lead to a kitchen—the front door glaringly opposite on the other end of the hallway—and after making sure that she could get back inside, she cautiously approached the front door.

It happened in an instant. She'd been prepared to slam the door shut after taking a look to see who it was, or perhaps ask for more answers if they seemed friendly, but she didn't do either of those things. As soon as the tall figure came into view, text materialised in front of her eyes.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _This is my best friend, Adrien._

She felt sick.

It was _floating_.

If she moved her head or flickered her eyes away, the text shifted to be in view, the boldness glaringly obvious and begging for attention as it stood out from the rest of the environment. There was a translucent bar behind it, not obscuring her view, but it was the text that couldn't be seen through at all.

Gripping onto the door for support, Marinette blurted out eloquently, “What the fuck?”

It shifted as soon as she acknowledged it, disappearing from sight and leaving only the normal background around her. With fast breaths, she rubbed her hands against her eyes again, a lot more frantically than she had done in the beginning, feeling more overwhelmed than anything. It—none of the events should've been happening, not when they didn't make sense to begin with.

She _knew_ her friends, her life, and if she hadn't seen herself in the mirror, she would've thought she was having a dream of another person's day.

A weight on her shoulder snapped her out of her thoughts.

Marinette recoiled, stumbling back against the wall as she opened her panicked eyes.

Adrien, as the text had addressed him as, was a male that seemed to be roughly her own age. With blond hair that skimmed the top of his ears and sharp features that were pinched in concern as he stared down at the hand that she'd shoved away from herself before looking back at her, he was as unfamiliar to her as everything else that was happening.

He was in most of the pictures that had been on her desk.

“Marinette?” he called quietly, daring to take a step closer. “Are you okay?”

 **MARINETTE:  
** _He transferred here in our second year, and we grew close instantly. When I'm sad, he's always there to make me smile! There's no one else I'd rather be with._

It said her name. There was no voice accompanying it—which surely would've been crazy, but floating text was already pushing the limits of her sanity—but it was still there, making it so she was the one saying it.

“What is going on?” she whispered, closing her eyes to get rid of the text, her weak legs making it so she sunk down to a crouch, arms wrapped around her thighs protectively. “Wake up.”

Ignoring the call of her name, she pressed her face into the space between her knees, feeling the warmth of her skin along with the pounding of her heart that just wasn't going away. With fast breaths that were borderline panicked, she tried to calm down, to think rationally of what was happening, but the thought of the unfamiliar setting and stranger who was apparently her best friend was making it impossible to be rational.

“Wake _up_ ,” she snapped at herself, voice barely audible.

There wasn't another attempt from Adrien to put a hand on her, but that didn't make her feel any safer. He wasn't someone she knew regardless of what the text said—

But she'd been too preoccupied to see whether he'd left or not.

Marinette opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the lighting with a wince before she looked for him. Surprisingly, he'd shut the front door and sat down opposite her in the hallway, his back against the wall as he looked on at her with a visibly worried expression. When he noticed that she was looking at him, he tried to offer her a smile, but it looked forced more than anything else.

“Hey,” Adrien said quietly, raising a hand and waving at her awkwardly. “Did you have a nightmare?”

She felt like she was still in one. “Yes.”

He winced. “I'm glad I brought along good snacks, then.” And it was then that she registered the backpack that was sat innocently beside him. “I can't let you sleep the whole night away.”

“Night?” she parroted, voice coming out thick.

Adrien looked at her in confusion. “It's like seven o'clock, Marinette. You went to take a nap instead of having dinner over at mine.”

Time wasn't matching up with her memory as well, then. “Oh.”

“Tonight's _sacred_ ,” he started, shifting from where he was sat with his knees almost touching his chest, looking a lot more comfortable than her protective position. “These nights are the highlight of my month, seriously. I love watching the worst films with you.”

When he spoke about memories and times that she didn't remember— _couldn't_ remember, as they weren't her own experiences—it made her stomach churn uncomfortably, threatening to throw up the unknown contents within. She didn't know her last meal, her home, nor what she was _doing_ —

 **MARINETTE:  
** _Sometimes, when he's close to me, I wonder why he likes me. Adrien's kind, has a smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle, and he's beautiful. I don't know why he's alone, especially not when he says he'd rather spend time with me._

Well, that was a development that she hadn't been expecting. It sounded like the version of Marinette that was appearing in the text had feelings that were much more than friendship for him.

The text was clearly telling her what was deemed as the important information, and as it was appearing slowly, not all at once, she assumed that it had to be prompted somehow.

“Fuck,” she breathed, realisation hitting her. “Is this a game?”

Adrien huffed. “I wouldn't lie to you about this, Marinette.”

Oh, she'd almost forgotten that he was there. “Right,” she said awkwardly, running a hand through her dark-coloured hair, feeling a bit calmer than she had minutes ago. “So you're here to watch a film with me?”

“Yes?” He tilted his head to the side quizzically. “Unless you've found a show that you want to watch instead? I'm not opposed to it, but the last we tried was boring for both of us.”

How many past events would be referenced in one setting?

“No, a film's fine,” Marinette said, shaking her head before she stood up on steady legs, prompting him to do the same. The only indication of her nervous state was the hammering of her heart and the clamminess that had appeared on her hands.

She discretely wiped them on her shorts as she followed after Adrien into her bedroom. Perching herself on the side of the mattress, she watched as he moved around the room, easily inputting the password to the laptop—and she briefly wondered whether it would be the same as her own, or even if the cell phone's code was—and opening folders to find the right file.

When he was done, he carried the laptop over to the end of the bed and gestured for her to sit down, already reaching for his bag and withdrawing packaged food that had likely been bought at the store on his way over.

After pushing one of her pillows up, the smile Adrien gave her when he sat beside her was bright, happy, and showed the indents on his cheeks clearly.

“Ready?” he asked, comfortably bumping his shoulder against hers in a friendly gesture that wouldn't be there unless he actually knew her.

It was absurd, but she was just waiting for some sort of text to come up—anything to speed along the process and convince her that she wasn't imagining things.

Watching a film would help her forget about it, so that was why she pulled the duvet up to her knees, shuffling a bit over so there was distance between the two of them as he started the film. It was loud, but she didn't know how thin the walls were, let alone if her dorm-mates were home—hell, would they be recognisable at all? It seemed a bit much to feel empathy for unknown faces.

What were the rules of dreams?

She wasn't too sure. When she awoke in the mornings, she usually forgot whatever had happened in her imagination, and never really paid much attention to them afterwards. Sometimes, they were amusing, but she'd never found herself actively thinking during one—then the thought struck her that, maybe, she just didn't remember it.

It was starting to hurt her head.

Marinette squinted at the screen, letting out a sigh of relief when she recognised the film. It was one that had come out the previous year—that she'd even seen before she knew knew the scenes—a familiar sight that filled her with warmth that not everything was made up.

The only problem was that she was aware of the glances that were sent her way every few minutes. Marinette tried not to look towards him or acknowledge them, feeling a bit self-conscious as she reached out and nibbled on some of the food, only to settle her anxious stomach.

To her surprise, Adrien made a few comments every now and then, saying jokes or puns for the scene that they'd just watched, and she actually thought they were amusing. He didn't seem too bad when he wasn't trying to sneakily steal glances in her direction, and he started to seem like the sort of person that she'd befriend from the personality that he was slowly showing.

Almost halfway through the film, she frowned to herself when she realised that no text had appeared. There was a possibility that, perhaps, the film wasn't what would prompt it, but she didn't know what to expect from the situation she was in. The closest she could equate it to was an interactive game, but she hadn't figured out the motivation for it at all.

But if it was her imagination, surely she would've been able to control it?

Furrowing her eyebrows, she stared at the screen, willing for anything to happen. Flowers, bubbles, hell, even just the video's quality dropping in visible quality would've been an answer, but the more she stared and grew frustrated, the more it became glaringly obvious that nothing was happening.

“Everything okay?” Adrien questioned, shuffled closer so their legs were pressed against each other.

She stiffened. “Fine.”

If he noticed that her voice came out high-pitched from panic, he didn't say anything. “We can always watch something else if you're not happy with it.”

“It's fine.” And it was—she'd enjoyed watching it in the past, back when she knew what was going on in her life. It was different when she had a new best friend and surroundings. “I just got distracted, that's all.”

A fond laugh came from him. “That sounds like you.”

Just how close was he supposed to be to her? The information given had said they'd only known each other for a year, but the way that he was sticking close to her side and commenting the the parts of the film that he _knew_ she'd liked—along with bringing her favourite foods—was hinting at something more than a normal friendship. He'd known his way around her tiny room, too, along with the location of everything on her laptop.

She didn't have many friends that were able to do that normally.

When she realised that he was staring at her again, Marinette turned her head to look at him directly, just to see what his reaction would be. At first, Adrien snapped his eyes back to the screen, the only indication that he'd been caught being the colour that appeared on his cheeks, and when she continued to look at him with pursed lips, she was able to see when he swallowed due to their close distance.

Everything had revolved around him thus far, so it seemed that waiting on him to further the dialogue was the best idea. Marinette relaxed against the pillows, openly staring at him with growing amusement as he grew obviously bothered, reaching up to fiddle with his hair and shifting on the spot, trying hard not to meet her gaze.

He was the one that had started it.

“You keep glancing at me,” Marinette quipped, nudging his knee with hers, the movement not feeling too unnatural. “Is there something on my face?”

He coughed. “No, your face is fine.”

She tried not to laugh. “You didn't even look at me.”

The blush was still present on his cheeks when he turned. She was able to see the blond at the end of his eyelashes, the green of his irides, and the way he parted his lips silently without saying anything as his eyes flickered to meet hers. Marinette raised her eyebrows, unsure of what to make of his reaction, and for a moment, they just stared at each other before his gaze went further down her face.

She was absolutely sure that he was staring at her lips, and she didn't know how she felt about that.

The text that appeared was more dramatic than others.

 **A:  
** _I'm being silly. Adrien wouldn't look at me that way._

 **B:  
** _I... I think he might want to kiss me._

Although it didn't have her name on it, it was obvious that there was two options for Marinette to pick—and that was where it got strange; well, stranger. It wasn't noticeable at first, but as she read over the text, wondering whether she really had to choose one of them, it was almost as though time had stopped around her.

Adrien wasn't moving.

When she held a hand up to his face, she realised that he wasn't even _breathing_ , and if that wasn't weird enough, she found that time really wasn't moving when she'd stretched across the bed to fetch the discarded cell phone. Surprisingly, the code was the same as her own one at home, but the model was different and the background was a picture of her and Adrien.

She swallowed, tossing the device aside again.

It had to really revolve around Adrien, then. The film hadn't caused anything to happen because she'd been ignoring his glances but—

It was her words that had caused him to turn, wasn't it? She didn't know how that made sense—did her words and actions even matter in this world, or was it all just her getting through the text and choices?

“Am I in a fucking dating simulator?” Marinette groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I don't need a fictional boyfriend!”

She just wanted to wake up in her own bed.

“Fine,” she murmured, exasperated as she threw her hands in the air. “ _Fine_!”

The two options that were still floating in front of her clearly led to different things. As confused as she was about the situation, she wasn't going to kiss someone she didn't know, no matter how much it was trying to tell her that they were best friends.

With a sigh, she said, “A.”

But nothing happened.

Adrien still wasn't breathing, his body was frozen, and there wasn't even a breeze coming in through the window.

“Oh, come _on_!” Marinette complained, slumping back against the bed from frustration.

What could she have done wrong? There wasn't any clear rules on what she had to do, but, surely, it could just continue from where it had stopped—

Adrien was staring at where she used to be.

Marinette crawled back over onto the bed, sitting up against the pillows and trying to find the closest position from before. Moving so she was leaning into him was awkward, even more so when he was just staring lifelessly in her direction, and it was worse when she had to press their legs together.

Hopefully it didn't matter that the duvet had shifted or that her cell phone had moved.

“A,” she repeated.

The text faded as Adrien came to life, an audible breath escaping him as he leaned further into her, looking perfectly alive and not like he'd been sat still for five minutes straight. There was no frantic blinking to get rid of the burning of his eyes, or wheezing breaths to try and catch up on oxygen—he seemed completely fine, as though it hadn't happened at all.

“Marinette,” Adrien started softly, going back to looking her in the eyes. “I—”

She'd denied the romantic option for a reason, but it seemed that he was still leaning towards it. What kind of person was she if she dreamed of rejecting someone?

She pulled back, looking at him warily. “Yes?”

It was obvious when he realised that she wasn't interested; Adrien's expression faltered, his eyes growing wide with what seemed to be panic as he sat up straight and raised a hand to fiddle with the hairs on the nape of his neck, looking anywhere but at her as he stuttered out, “I—it's nothing.”

And if that wasn't heartbreak, she didn't know what was.

“There's something on your face,” he murmured, bringing one knee up to his chest to lean on. “I was just trying to help you get it.”

As much as she didn't want to sympathise with an imaginary character, she played along and ran a hand over her cheeks, making sure her skin was clean on crumbs. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” His smile didn't reach his eyes—it wasn't one that showed his dimples or crinkles at the corners like had been described in the beginning. “I'm here to help.”

The guilt she felt from causing him to look so down couldn't have just been imaginary.

 **END ROUTE:  
** _ADRIENETTE_

**BAD END**

-x-

 **START ROUTE:  
** _LADRIEN_

“What?” Marinette groaned, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden change.

The film with Adrien had been a disaster, and she'd been staring at the screen, willing for something to happen before the text had appeared and proclaimed that it had been a bad ending. The fact that it truly was appearing as a dating simulator was daunting in the first place, but when she looked around and saw a brick building in front of her, she registered a flash of another route starting.

She just hadn't been fast enough to read it. Perhaps, that was why she hadn't seen it in the first place when she'd woken up in the unfamiliar bed before.

Her surroundings were stranger in the new route. She was outside the back of a tall building with trees and bushes around her, not another individual in sight.

It was the flash of red that caught her eyes.

Marinette stared down at her covered hands, freezing from confusing when she saw that she was covered in some sort of a bodysuit that was red-coloured with black spots placed symmetrically across it. After panicking that she was covered from head-to-toe, touching her face proved that it ended at the neck, and that she was wearing some sort of mask around her eyes.

She couldn't take it off.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _Oh, no! No matter how many times I do this, this superhero stuff isn't easy. What if someone sees me sneaking back to my room?_

“I'm a fucking _superhero_?”

It explained the costume, at least, but it didn't make her feel any better about the situation. Staring up at the various windows suddenly made sense, too, but that made it even worse—how was she supposed to know which one was hers, let alone how she'd get up there?

If it was a game, it made sense that the intended destination would stand out.

There was a room which had the window open, but the problem was that it was far too high up. Clearly, she couldn't walk around and use the stairs since she was transformed, but she had no idea what her powers were supposed to be. She didn't _feel_ any different than usual; if anything, she felt neutral, not too hot or cold, and the material of the suit wasn't noticeable against her skin.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _I'm just glad the security cameras are faulty. If a student sees me, I'll have to make up an excuse. It's not my first time going home transformed, but I haven't been spotted before._

Her mission was clear, then; make it up to her bedroom without being seen by someone.

She patted herself down and found a thread that was wrapped around her waist, leading to a bandalore that matched her outfit, and readily gawked at it.

“This is my weapon?” she scoffed, doubtful.

With some fiddling, she found out that the centre of it could be opened and had some sort of a screen that could access a map and had a list of numbers to call, but that didn't seem like it could help her at that moment. She stretched the string with her fingers, waiting to see whether it would snap or if it would be stronger than it looked, and when she put it underneath her foot and pulled with all her might, she decided to push her luck.

After all, if she died in a dream, she'd just wake up in reality.

So, after taking in a deep breath, Marinette hooked her finger through the small loop on the weapon, then pulled her arm back and threw the bandalore in the air, impressed that she managed to hook it around part of the roof for a moment before she was pulled upwards by the momentum—

What a great ability it was to have.

As it turned out, the suit made it so she didn't feel pain when she bumped into things. Her knees hit multiple windows, scrapped across the brick, and her shoulder hit the walls enough that she was sure it would've been injured in real life, but, somehow, she managed to make it up to the open window.

Perched on the windowsill, legs through into the room, Marinette took a moment to collect herself and recover from the feel of air rushing through her hair as she moved far too fast—and clumsily—for her normal self.

It didn't seem that the current version was focused on romance.

Tugging on the bandalore made it return back to her, causing her to stare at it in surprise for a while before tying it around her waist again, trying to replicate how it had been before. She didn't know of any that were able to act like that in reality, so it was clearly an addition to the numbing suit that was greatly appreciated. The plus side was that she finally understood how she was supposed to get around as a superhero.

The downside of coming through the window meant that her feet were on the desk, knocking off some of the pictures and other possessions and she moved over it to stand on the floor.

The same dull walls and tiny room greeted her as before, but the duvet had changed. Perplexed, Marinette picked up the objects that she'd pushed off, recognising one of them as the framed picture that she'd seen of her and Adrien before.

She could've sworn that the frame was different.

“Ladybug?”

Startled, she turned around to see Adrien staring at her, visibly surprised.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _I made a mistake! I panicked and went into my best friend's room. Adrien can't know I'm Ladybug—no one can know! He's looking at me, what am I going to do?_

“I—hi,” Marinette started, clearing her throat. “I'm—Ladybug, yes, that's me.”

If only she had a better name, but it explained the suit, at least. She wanted to curse, to shout that she'd judged the scene far too soon, because, of course, it had to lead to him in some way or the other. It seemed that she couldn't just be a teenaged superhero without there being some kind of romance in the way—

She didn't know what kind of relationship the two of them had while she was transformed.

“Yes,” he sounded amused, approaching her after he took his shoes off by the door. From the backpack that was discarded, it was clear that he'd just come from classes of some sort. “Is—is everything okay? You're in my room.”

It was clear that she couldn't just say that she'd thought it would be her own, so she blurted out instead, “You left your window open.”

His wide-eyed gaze flickered to the window that she hadn't closed to the belongings on the desk that were out of place. “I... see,” he said slowly, eyebrows furrowed. “Thank you?”

She saluted. “Just doing my job.”

It didn't matter that she had no idea what her job actually was; the enemies of this world were completely unknown, and the only thing she wanted to vanquish was the whole thing, just to go back to her own pyjamas and relaxing in bed.

“Do you—do you want to stay for a bit?” Adrien exclaimed, a bit high-pitched as he nervously touched the nape of his neck, a move she recognised from when he'd tried to kiss her the night before. “I-I can get you a drink or something, if you want anything.”

The real question was whether the events from before were still present, or whether she'd started over completely with what seemed to be a new identity and plot.

She didn't get to answer immediately as the room stilled. The breeze stopped, his eyes staring at her without blinking, and the text was wherever she looked.

 **A:  
** _He can't know me like this, I have to run!_

 **B:  
** _It's Adrien, he'll understand if I tell him it was a mistake._

As rejection hadn't worked well last time—and she at least somewhat knew Adrien—she said, “B.”

The scene came back to life as Adrien bashfully shifted, gaze darting around and not staying focused on her as he babbled, “I mean, I know you're busy but—you're already here, aren't you? I promise not to tell anyone about this—”

Stretching her arms out in front of her, still impressed that they weren't injured, Marinette cautiously replied, “I guess I can stay for a bit.”

If the trick to finishing was not rejecting him, she could play along for the time being. Compared to the previous scene, the Adrien in front of her seemed a bit flustered as he stood in front of her, and she realised with a start that she only came up to his chest with her height. As they'd been sitting for most of the time, she hadn't realised that before.

“Can I sit down?” she prompted, offering him a small smile.

That made his expression light up. “I—yes!” Adrien stuttered, wildly gesturing to the desk chair or onto his bed. “Wherever you want.”

Considering that it seemed to revolve around him, Marinette chose to sit down beside him on the bed. There was still some distance between, enough so that their knees weren't touching, but she was able to see that her decision was causing him to try and hide his smile.

“So,” she started, a bit uncertain on what to do. The worry that if she failed her task—that wouldn't just tell her outright what her quest even _was—_ she'd restart in a whole new scenario was present, nagging at her with every passing second. “How was your day?”

He laughed. “It was okay?” It came out sounding like a question. “I had some classes, but now I'm free. I was honestly just going to watch some videos and relax for a bit.”

“You don't have to limit yourself because I'm here,” Marinette said, wondering to herself whether he'd interacted with her transformed self before. Compared to the last time, he was visibly nervous, stuttering a lot more and not as content. “Don't be afraid to ask me to leave, too. I don't want to intrude on your personal time.”

His cheeks coloured. “I wasn't going to do _that_.”

It took a moment for her to realise what he meant, and then she laughed abruptly before she placed a hand over her mouth, knowing that her smile was still visible from the curve of her eyes, even with the mask in place.

“I don't know why I said that,” Adrien lamented, sounding thoroughly embarrassed as he hid his face in his hands. “Just—please forget that happened.”

“No way,” she responded instantly, not holding back her amusement. “That was the best thing that's happened to me today.”

He groaned. “I can't believe I'm talking to you about this.”

“There, there.” She patted his shoulder playfully, trying to break the ice between them. “So, what did you do last night?”

When he was sat upright again, there was still a bit of colour left on his cheeks. “Last night?” he parroted, looking at her curiously. “I went out with some friends. It wasn't anything exciting.”

That wasn't the answer she wanted, but she was almost expecting it. From his reply, she had to assume that the events of the previous scene had been forgotten, not important to the story that she was currently on—and, gosh, if that wasn't confusing in the first place, then knowing that she had to try and make the right decisions by herself to move on was even worse.

She didn't know what the point of her being there in the first place was, but whatever it was, it was all pointing to him; someone that her brain had conjured up, apparently.

“Anything exciting planned for today?” she asked, leaning back and resting her weight on her hands. “Other than the whole superhero thing, I live through others.”

He snorted. “My life must pale in comparison to yours.”

“I don't even know what I'm doing most of the time.” She shrugged. “For instance, I don't really know why I'm here. It was a kind of spur of the moment thing.”

Adrien didn't reply immediately to that. Instead, he looked at her curiously, lips parted silently as he stared, not at all being subtle about it. But rather than being put off—as she had been the previous time—Marinette smiled, wondering what was going through his head. He had seemed pretty normal throughout the film, and she had liked his personality when he wasn't trying to come onto her.

“You—” Adrien cleared his throat, stalling. “You came to see me on a whim?”

 _Oh_.

“Yes?” It came out like a question, but it was true, in a way. “That sounds pretty creepy, doesn't it?”

He rubbed his hands on her clothed thighs. “No, it's... I think it's sweet, actually.”

That didn't sound like something someone would say if they didn't know each other a little bit. However long this Marinette had been a superhero, they'd clearly interacted with each other—it was either that or he knew who she was underneath the mask, which didn't seem to be too much of a stretch. She didn't imagine skin tight clothing was a good disguise, nor a mask that only covered the top of her cheekbones.

“Do you know who I am?” she decided to ask outright. “You seem familiar with me.”

Frantically shaking his head, making his hair move from how fast it was, Adrien quickly replied, “No, I don't.”

“Oh.” That got rid of that theory, then. “You don't seem that intimidated by me, though? I was panicking and trying to think of an excuse to disappear, but you all but invited me to make myself at home in your tiny room.”

He shifted, moving closer to her in the process. “I just—I really admire you, you know?” Adrien admitted, self-consciously touching his neck again before pulling his hand away as though it burned, making himself sit upright and attempt to appear not as nervous. “I've always dreamed of getting the chance to know you, that's all.”

Maybe she was a good superhero with her bandalore. “Why?” Marinette probed, tilting her head curiously. “I'm not that impressive.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say as he turned to face her fully, gaping. “What?” he whispered, incredulous. “You—do you really think that?”

“Sure?” She grimaced. “I mean, it's mostly the suit and add-ons. I'm nothing like this outside of it.”

“I don't admire you just for your physical capabilities,” Adrien clarified softly, not breaking eye contact. “I—I like how positive you are throughout, and that you're not afraid to show your emotions. And when you stay back to talk to victims afterwards, I think that's really sweet of you.”

Did—did this version of Adrien have a crush on her, too?

He wetted his lips. “Those don't sound like qualities that only appear when you're transformed.”

“No,” she admitted, a bit stumped for words. “I guess not.”

One of the previous options had been to acknowledge that he wanted to kiss her, but it wasn't present that time. And yet, no more text had appeared since she'd chosen the option to stay—perhaps, she had to be the one to initiate it? His feelings seemed to be the same as before, only directed towards a different version of herself.

So, with confidence that wasn't there before, Marinette shuffled along so they were sat closer to each other, knees touching, and asked boldly, “Do you have feelings for me?”

“Feelings?” he spluttered out, voice high-pitched. “I—what are you talking about?”

As it had been building to the two of them kissing before, she continued on to question, “Am I just reading things wrong, then?”

She could see when he swallowed.

“I apologise if I'm being too forward.” That was a lie; she didn't feel sorry at all, not even when he seemed to shift on the spot from embarrassment, the redness of his face unmistakeable. “But I'd really like to kiss you right now.”

His lips parted as he exhaled audibly. “Really?”

Not sure whether keeping her identity a secret was requirement that would cause her to restart or not, Marinette chose to say, “I've... I know you when I'm not Ladybug, but you've never reacted to me like this before.” It wasn't a lie that time. Adrien hadn't been as shy with her before. “If it's really just admiration, you don't have to indulge me.”

“You know _me_? Do—wait, you really shouldn't tell me any more.” Adrien cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “I'd really like to kiss you, too, if it's what you really want. I... I do have those kind of feelings for you.”

“Are you sure?” she questioned, leaning closer so their noses brushed. “I don't want to take advantage of you.”

His breath felt warm against her face, the only exposed skin that wasn't protected by her suit. “I've liked you for a long time now, and I'm the one that invited you inside. If anyone's trying to take advantage here, it's me.”

As awkward as it was bringing herself to kiss someone that she didn't know, she was glad that it was with someone as kind as Adrien. He wasn't pushing her, not surging forward with impatience or gazing at with lust-filled eyes; rather, he was waiting for her to make the first move, keeping his hands to himself as they shyly stared into each other's eyes, and she wondered whether he was able to tell that she was nervous.

The whole point seemed to be being romantic with him. As much as she wanted to question herself, wonder why she was so sexually frustrated that she'd shift a dream into some sort of a dating simulator game, she was mostly focused on how hesitant he was—was she projected what she wanted in a partner on him?

It wasn't real—there was no regretful hookup at a party, no lustful encounter that wouldn't happen again with another university student. Marinette was the one making herself nervous when there truly wasn't any strings attached to the situation; he wouldn't ask for her number or attempt to take her out on an awkward date after they shared an awkward kiss.

With her stance on the situation decided, Marinette was the one that moved forward and pressed her lips against his. It was clumsy and hesitant, frustratingly slow as she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing them closer to each other. With clashes of teeth and warm breaths that she could feel against her exposed skin, it wasn't the most nervous kiss she'd received, but it was closer.

Marinette sighed against his mouth when she realised that he wasn't trying to deepen the kiss; he was letting her be in control of it fully, just accepting whatever she gave him, and when she opened her eyes to see that there was no text there, she pulled back with a frown.

He blinked to adjust to the lighting. “I—”

“Let's pretend that didn't happen,” she quipped, standing up before she registered the way his expression faltered before it smoothed out, much like it had back when she'd rejected him.

Before he was able to reply, she straddled him, knees on either side of his thighs as she settled down on his lap, grinning when she saw how surprised he was. Taking his hands into hers, she placed them on her hips before wrapping her arms around his neck again, their noses brushing as she placed a chaste kiss to his lips to help him relax.

He became less rigid in a matter of seconds. Adrien was the one that initiated their kiss that time, and although it was soft and hesitant, it wasn't one-sided any more. She hummed to show her appreciation, moving her body closer to his so their chests were pressed against each other, even though she wasn't able to feel it due to the suit.

It made sense, really. It was able to protect her from feeling pain or breaking bones while doing dangerous stunts, so it was understandable that she wasn't able to feel friction or do more than barely register the weight of his hands that were settled on her waist.

So, it was purely for his enjoyment that she rocked her hips forward, putting weight where she knew his crotch was, and from the way that he stiffened against her, it was clear that she'd been correct. From the way that he didn't push her away, instead covering after a moment had passed and choosing to run his tongue languidly over her lower lip to deepen their kiss instead of rejecting her, Marinette was thrilled to know that he was responding positively.

For a dream—no matter how messed up it was when the goal seemed to be romancing an unknown male—kissing felt as it did when she was awake. The feel of his tongue, the warmth of his breath, and the intimate feeling of their bodies being close together was unmistakeable, all thing she hadn't felt in what seemed to be months.

As she continued to grind against him, aware that the pulse between her legs had awakened from the sound of his muffled moans, she made a noise of frustration when he broke their kiss to pull away and stare at her in confusion.

She stared right back, taking in the reddened lips that were purely her doing.

“You—can't you feel that?” Adrien asked.

Bewildered, she looked down to see that he'd cupped her breast on top of her suit, and even as she saw him in the process of kneading her breast—something she'd usually enjoy—the feeling wasn't present at all. Her face heated up from embarrassment that she hadn't realised how long he'd been doing it for at all—it had clearly been long enough for him to wonder why he wasn't getting a response.

“No, sorry,” she admitted, tucking some hairs behind her ear. “Suit wasn't exactly designed for sexual activity, you know? It's not ribbed for extra pleasure.”

Putting his hands back on her hips, Adrien's green-coloured eyes flickered down to his lap in a silent question.

She laughed. “Same down there, too. I was doing that for you.”

“Oh.” He frowned, lips still glossy from their activities. “I don't want this to be so one-sided, though. I'd... if you're okay with it, I'd be fine with putting on something to cover my eyes.”

As text hadn't popped up, it was clear that kissing wasn't the main objective. Marinette pondered her options for a moment, wondering whether she'd be able to find her own room before remembering that Adrien couldn't get in without a key before—and she had no idea where that even was—but the offer was tempting. As kissing felt realistic, she wondered whether the rest would, too, when it was with someone that seemed as kind as him.

“Honestly, I'm disgustingly vanilla,” Marinette casually admitted, running a hand through his hair and seeing his exposed forehead before the strands messily covered it once more. “My sex life is about as exciting as my love life; bland, awkward, and very rare.”

His lopsided smile only showed one dimple. “If that's your way of telling me you're single, then I'm happy to inform you that I am, too.”

With a laugh, she rolled her hips once more. “I should hope so.”

“You said that you know me,” he pointed out softly. “Doesn't that mean you should already know that?”

Well, all she knew about him was from being in his presence as his awkward best friend for two hours, so she settled with shrugging. “Are you serious about covering your eyes? I'm pretty sure keeping my identity a secret is a lot more important than getting into your pants.”

He coughed, covering up a laugh at the last part. “Absolutely.”

“You're really eager for this,” she observed, pointedly putting a hand over his crotch.

“The girl of my dreams literally climbed in through my window,” Adrien responded, kissing her lips chastely. “Can you blame me?”

As much as she wanted to laugh at his phrasing—it was ironic—she chose to grin instead. “How about I go change in your bathroom while you close that window?”

“I—yeah,” he stuttered. “I can do that.”

That lead to the dilemma of closing the bathroom door behind her, staring into the mirror and taking in the suit that was covering a large portion of her body. Marinette had no idea how she'd even transformed in the first place—or even if she'd just put it on herself—and the lack of zip wasn't helping her. Checking the bandalore to see if there was any instructions left on it seemed dumb, though she really did look on the screen after a few minutes, disappointed that it offered her nothing.

It was a ridiculous spotted suit that stuck to her like a second skin, with a mask that she couldn't peel off no matter how much she tried. She muttered underneath her breath, wondering whether she had to say a catchphrase like in some of the animated shows she'd seen as a child, and it was only when she felt her hair move that she opened her eyes to see her reflection.

“...I don't even know what I said,” she muttered, regretful.

She was relieved that she was wearing casual clothes, shorts and a t-shirt that she recognised from her own wardrobe.

“Okay,” she said to herself, fiddling with the end of her shirt. “This—this is easy, yeah. I'm going to go have sex with an imaginary guy within my imagination, all because I'm an imaginary superhero who he's probably had imaginary wet dreams about. It's _fine_.”

A knock to the door made her jump. “Ladybug?”

“I'm here!” she replied, a bit shrill. “It's not like you have a window or anything for me to go out of—not that I'm _leaving_ , I was just trying to be funny—”

“You're really cute,” was the reply she got, one that made her want to groan into her hands. “I'm just here to say that I'm going to be on the bed, covering my eyes, so you're welcome to come out whenever you're ready.”

Choosing to stare at the door instead of responding probably wasn't the best decision, but she was wondering about her mental sanity at that moment.

Adrien took her lack of answer to be negative. “If you don't want to continue, I won't be hurt. I'll be a bit rejected, yeah, but I'm not going to force you to do anything—you're the strong one here, not me.”

She stared at her hands. “I'm kind of a regular human being right now.”

“I'm sure you're still amazing.”

Maybe she really just wanted someone to compliment her.

When she eventually came out of the bathroom, she peered around the corner to check that he really was covering his face. To her surprise, he was holding up a pillow to block his view, resting it gently on his face, but not enough to block his breathing.

Still, she laughed. “What are you doing?”

“I didn't bring any ties with me!” Adrien defended himself, having the decency to sound a bit embarrassed. “I just—this is the best I can do without trying to put a t-shirt over my head or something, but with those, there's a chance that I can see through the thin material.”

“So you're planning to stay on your back the entire time?” she questioned, footsteps quiet as she approached the bed. “I can see a few flaws in your plan.”

He hugged the pillow closer. “I also have my eyes closed.”

Putting a hand on the pillow to tilt it towards where she was going, Marinette flopped down on top of the duvet beside him. “It's the middle of the day, so it's a shame we can't just turn the lights off.”

“I'd still be able to see you a bit if we did do that,” he pointed out, jumping in surprise when she ran her fingertips over his exposed forearm. “Are you—do you still sure about this?”

“That I want to have sex with you?” she asked, amused. “Yes, I am.”

She wondered what face he was making. “Okay.”

“But,” she started, sitting upright and letting her gaze travel down to his jeans. “We didn't really think this through. Am I supposed to undress the both of us?”

“I didn't want to be out here naked, just for you to reject me,” Adrien admitted, voice muffled by the pillow. “There's only so much I can take, you know?”

Running her hands over his abdomen until she reached his waistband, Marinette enquired, “What's your brilliant plan for kissing?”

“Both parties usually have their eyes closed while kissing.”

She flicked his skin where his shirt had risen up. “I'm going to go undress in the bathroom.”

“Okay.” His voice sounded breathy, and when she thought he wasn't going to add anything onto that, she'd made it halfway across the room before he called out, “Ladybug?”

Marinette peered back, not surprised that he hadn't moved. “Yes?”

“I do really respect you,” he confessed softly. “I just want you to know that.”

A surprised laugh escaped her. Of all the personalities that he could've had, he happened to have one that was increasingly endearing. As much as she'd enjoyed just watching a film with him, the new side of him that he was showing wasn't so bad either.

So, before she disappeared into the bathroom to undress again, she decided to cockily say, “You're going to respect me a hell of a lot more when I'm naked.”

She could hear his laughter when she closed the door.

There was no half-hearted pep-talk for herself that time. Marinette took off her clothes, folding them on top of the toilet seat before fixing her hair in the mirror, regardless of the fact that he wouldn't see her. As he hadn't recognised her voice—surely, he would've connected the dots to his best friend—she had to assume that while in the suit there was something to hide her identity, but as she was out of it, maybe he was just not making the right connection.

She really wondered whether him finding out her identity would send her right back to a beginning with a new scenario and new choices.

“No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I'm going to go have sex with the literal man of my dreams, then I'll wake up in my own bed after this fever dream's over.”

Then, she realised that it kind of was a pep-talk.

Unlike before, she didn't peer around the corner to see whether he was telling the truth. Marinette burst out into honest laughter when she saw that he'd covered the most of his body with the duvet, the pillow still placed on top of his head.

“That can't be comfortable,” she remarked, eyes trailing down to where his thighs were sticking out, admiring the newly exposed skin.

His voice was muffled when he said, “Being responsible isn't about being comfortable.”

“This is by far the strangest hookup I've ever had,” Marinette admitted, finding it hard to find the situation arousing when he looked like he was trying to suffocate himself. “I wanted to do this because I like your smile, but now I'm never going to see it.”

There was a lull in the conversation, and she wondered whether she'd said the wrong thing before he quietly spoke up, “You like my smile?”

Well, it was one of the first things described to her. “It's a nice smile, I'm not going to lie.”

“Are you—” Adrien cut himself off, but she still heard the hesitance there. “Are you only doing this because I'm attractive?”

She was doing it because she wanted some damn game options to appear, and it was beyond clear that he was of great importance. And if that meant kissing him—which hadn't been too bad—and doing anything else, she'd slowly accepted the fate of doing that, a bit entertained by how lifelike everything felt, regardless of the fact it was her imagination.

But she couldn't say that, so she settled with, “I have the hugest crush on you normally.”

It wasn't a lie. The Marinette from the dialogue had been extremely self-conscious, but she'd been openly hinting about her feelings, at least.

“I'm going to sit up,” Adrien announced, holding the pillow in his hands to block his view. “Can you swap places with me?”

A bit bewildered, Marinette accepted the pillow as she put her back against the mattress, having the foresight to put a cushion underneath her head. As the roles had somewhat reversed, with her being the one that couldn't see and was blocking her identity from his view, she could only hear and feel as the duvet shifted, coming to rest upon her body up to her chest as he went underneath it.

“This is still really weird,” she blurted, not flinching when she felt his hands on her legs, parting them slowly, giving her the chance to reject him. “Do I really need to use this pillow when you're underneath that?”

A kiss to the inside of her thigh made her jump. “Just hold it between us, I guess. No need to cover your face all the time.”

She swallowed. “Okay, captain.”

“Have we moved onto petnames already?” Adrien mused, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

She shifted her hips to be comfortable and try and urge him to stop teasing her with intimate kisses, everywhere but where she wanted him to be. It was an intimate moment, only ruined by the bundles of fabric that they had so they couldn't look at each other, and she really had to wonder why her imagination seemed to be so fixated on him—

The first brush of his lips against her protrusion caused her to inhale sharply, having not expected it. A breath of amusement left him—the warmth welcome and heightening the experience—and when he sucked gently, ever-so-tentatively, she made a noise of frustration as her hands curled around the duvet. It would've been better if she was able to see him, to be able to feel the softness of his hair again, but for some reason the anonymity of it all was the main point.

His tongue was warm and teasing, not moving too much and causing her to squirm from discomfort. If anything, the way he was moving was the way she liked it; not too over the top or dramatic, just a gentle build up that had her arching her back as she shifted closer to him, quietly encouraging more of the contact.

With the pillow resting on her abdomen, a weight that she only noticed whenever she moved, and the duvet keeping him out of view, she wasn't too surprised to realise that she wasn't embarrassed by the situation. She had a male that seemed to admire her from afar, a crush that he'd readily admitted to when he found her in her room, and the attention that he was showering her in wasn't bad.

It just made her feel self-absorbed, that was all.

His breath against the damp parts of her was pleasurable in itself, so when he pulled back, pressing a hesitant finger within her, she moaned in appreciation, urging him to continue. When it was fully inside, gently opening her up further than he could've done before, Adrien went back to kissing her sensitive nub as he did so, another detail that she was fond of.

He seemed to be a textbook example of what she wanted in a man, and that realisation made her laugh.

When she became aware that he'd paused, clearly wondering what had caused her amusement, she cleared her throat before lying, “Sorry, I'm ticklish.”

“Cute,” was the reply she got before he added another digit, reaching further within her.

The coiling warmth that had been building in her abdomen was demanding, the thundering pulse between her legs just as bad, and when it was combined with the feel of his lips, his breath against her flushed skin, and the way his fingers were curled within her were making it so the noises that escaped her lips were growing more desperate. Marinette's grip on the duvet grew tighter, and as she became aware of how closer she was, she clumsily reached down to push him away.

Adrien fumbled as he sat up, a comical sight as the duvet went up with him, still covering his face, and the first thing he asked was, “Did I do something wrong?”

She choked out a laugh. “No, no,” Marinette assured him, sitting up herself as the pillow fell down beside her. “I just want to kiss you now, that's all.”

Able to see the dips and curves of his body, she ran her fingertips over his chest, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Regardless of how absurd the situation of, there was still a sense of intimacy and more trust than there should've been for someone that she'd only known for a matter of hours—even though for him, it was an entirely different story.

“Oh.” His voice sounded breathy. “I—yeah. We can do that.”

“I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to kick your ass if you open your eyes,” she mused, lifting the duvet over his head and pushing it off him. “It's a shame you don't have a sleeping mask or something.”

His eyes were closed as he laughed. “Have you actually ever seen anyone use them? I've only seen a few on planes.”

Cupping his jaw with one hand, Marinette replied, “I think we should really focus on kissing, rather than talking about the mysteries of face masks.”

“You're absolutely right, Ladybug,” he answered, amused. “How could I be such a fool?”

The name still amused her.

The kiss wasn't as hesitant as before; there was wandering hands, breathy moans as she pressed her exposed breasts against his chest, and she was absolutely enjoying the feel of his calloused hands against her hips. Marinette pushed his shoulders gently, prompting him to fall back against the mattress, a startled laugh escaping him as their kiss abruptly stopped as he reached down to pull the pillow that he'd landed on away.

“I can't believe this pillow was your great idea,” she remarked, readily straddling him so she was able to feel his arousal against her. “What am I supposed to do here, Adrien? Hold it in front of your face while we have sex?”

He choked out a laugh. “I wasn't thinking clearly, okay?”

“No, you weren't,” Marinette agreed, placing the pillow on his chest as she purposely shifted her hips. “All I wanted to do is go home, but now I'm here and naked with you, so you're not the only one not thinking clearly.”

“You—” Adrien started, placing his hands on her hips. “You live near here?”

She stilled. “I think that's personal information.”

“Right, and your vagina isn't,” he said sarcastically with a nod. “I'm not judging you here it—it just seems a bit of a contradiction, doesn't it? I know all this personal stuff about you now that I wouldn't have before.”

And she knew the dips and curves of his imaginary body. “I'm absolutely sure that even if I said hello to your face tomorrow, you wouldn't connect the dots and know it was me.”

“Why do you say that?” Curiosity was clear in his tone, and from the way his thumbs were rubbing soothing patterns into her skin, it was genuine. “I know the transformation makes it hard to place your face, but this—what we're doing now—isn't something I can just forget about. I'm going to be looking at everyone twice and wondering whether they're you.”

She hadn't signed up to have a heart-to-heart with a stranger, not one that admired her for ridiculous reasons that she didn't even know herself. When she'd decided to go along with the flow of the situation, she'd assumed that the lifelike reactions wouldn't lead to more emotions, and seeing him so open and vulnerable—able to be hurt by her choices—made her feel uncomfortable.

Seeing him rejected the first time had been hard enough, even though she knew that it wasn't right to grow attached to someone that wasn't real. When she woke up back in her bed, in her rightful home, there wouldn't be a blond-haired best friend with silly jokes and a sweet smile that reached his eyes; she'd have her old friends, no romantic relationship to speak of at that moment in her life—

And just for a moment, she wanted to indulge in the feeling of someone caring for her.

Even though he couldn't see, she smiled as she declared, “You're sweet.”

“I feel like you're trying to distract me.”

“Am I?” Marinette questioned, reaching down to take hold of his arousal, squeezing gently. “What makes you say that?”

He inhaled audibly. “Okay, I promise not to pry any more.”

Tightening her grip as she started to move her hand, she said, “You know a lot more than anyone else now.”

“Even more than Chat Noir?”

As she didn't know what that was supposed to mean, Marinette settled with responding with her actions instead. From how the pillow was against his chest, she was able to see his expression as she continued to pump him; the curve of his brow, the parted lips that were letting out almost panted breaths, and the colour that had appeared on his cheeks. It was a vulnerable expression that she hadn't seen for a while, not when he'd been intent on hiding his face from her.

He was the one that was more worried about keeping her identity a secret.

With his breaths coming out fast, the occasional moan escaping, she had to wonder how graphic her imagination would be. There had yet to be text, but she had to assume that if she was doing something wrong, something would pop up to tell her about it. It—it was a bit strange that the whole purpose seemed to be to sleep with him, but there wasn't much else she could do.

It wasn't like she was opposed to it either. Adrien had proven to be hesitant in the best ways, thoughtful, and fiercely loyal about not opening his eyes despite the fact that she was straddling across his lap. Despite how he was insisting that their encounter would change him in the morning, it wasn't the same for her—Marinette had no strings attached, no awkward moment after they'd finished, all because it just came across as fun to her.

It was a lot better than a murder dream, she decided.

“Wait,” he rasped.

Her hand stilled. “Yes?”

“I'm—I just need a minute, that's all,” Adrien admitted, looking a bit embarrassed as he removed his hands from her, holding onto the pillow instead as he lifted it up to rest on his face.

It didn't look at all comfortable, but she wasn't going to complain. “If we're going further, I sure hope you have something for us to use.”

He gestured vaguely to his bedside table.

She fumbled with the foil at first before rolling it over him, taking the time it took to put on to catch her breath, once again amazed by how lifelike the whole situation felt. It had been months since her last romantic encounter, yet the feeling of Adrien's hands softly touching her skin—let alone his lips against hers—trumped the fading memories that she had.

Putting her weight onto her knees, Marinette used one hand to grasp his arousal, the other resting on his abdomen to keep herself upright. The pillow that Adrien had been holding was pushed aside in favour of holding onto her hips once again when she guided his tip towards her entrance, and she carefully started to sink down at a steady pace, thankful that there wasn't much pain. There was still a tinge of discomfort from the stretch, but it was bearable, and as she let out a breath as she stayed still to adjust to the change, she became aware of the shuddering beneath her.

“What—” Marinette started, tensing from surprise as she saw the way his face was scrunched up in pleasure.

It didn't take long to realise what had happened.

“Oh,” was all that she could say.

Adrien settled for reaching for the pillow again, covering his face as he groaned. Rather than trying to embarrass him further—it was clear that he wasn't happy with what had happened—she tried to stay as still as possible while he took the time to recover.

There was a feeling of disappointment, of course; her heartbeat was going mad and the wetness between her legs wasn't there for no reason, but more than anything, she was trying not to laugh. It—it was just so _ridiculous_. From scaling a wall to having an all around awkward session of sex, nothing seemed to be normal.

“Fuck, I-I'm so _sorry_ ,” Adrien eventually mumbled, voice quiet and muffled from his position that he seemed to be in no hurry to change. “I don't know what happened.”

“It's fine,” Marinette said, exhaling in amusement. “It happens, you know? I'm not going to judge you for it, but I am going to climb off of you now.”

When she got off of him, he winced, but it was to be expected. Marinette sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the sweaty hair away from her face as she sat there, trying not to make it seem like she was eager to leave immediately—she was just waiting for text, that was all.

After a moment of staring at his awkwardly still form—he hadn't even tried to pull the duvet up to cover himself—Marinette settled down beside him, facing the pillow that was blocking her view.

She reached out and fiddled with some of his hair. “I wasn't lying about the crush thing before.”

He snorted. “You're just trying to make me feel better.”

“Well, kind of,” she admitted with a laugh, resting her head down on the spare pillow. “It helps that I'm seeing more of you like this.”

“I'm an embarrassment,” Adrien replied without hesitation. “I just—I keep thinking about how amazing it is that you're here with me, and I—”

Marinette pinched his shoulder lightly. “If you think you're an embarrassment, you'd love to see me in real life. I'm a bundle of anxiety and mistakes at least ninety percent of the time.”

“Real life?” he parroted, curious. “That's a—it's a weird phrase to use, isn't it? I mean, just because you're transformed doesn't mean it's still not _you_.”

As silly as the slip had been, she was thankful that he jumped to his own conclusions. “Yeah, I guess,” she vaguely agreed, wanting to skip over the topic. “I'm just trying to say, there's no reason to put yourself down because of something silly. If I liked you any less for that, I'd be an asshole.”

“It should be impossible for you to be this sweet.”

And in that moment, she thought the same for him.

 **END ROUTE:  
** _LADRIEN_

**GOOD END**

-x-

 **START ROUTE:  
** _LADYNOIR_

It happened as soon as she'd gotten dressed in the bathroom. Marinette had caught sight of the text, barely comprehending the words before her eyes were adjusting to the lighting, black dots obscuring her vision as an uncomfortable feeling appeared in her stomach for a moment. She rubbed at her eyes, a bit frustrated from how abrupt it had been, before pulling her hands away.

“ _Really_?” she questioned aloud, exasperated that she was in the suit again.

There was only so many times that she could open her eyes to find herself being a superhero before it got on her nerves. It had said _good_ before—she'd done well with Adrien, and yet, the setting had shifted again.

Even worse than being aware beside an unfamiliar building, she was on a rooftop in what seemed to be the middle of the night, if the darkness in the sky was anything to go by. Peering over the edge proved that the building was far too high up, enough that she didn't want to risk using the bandalore to get to the floor.

The rooftop was mostly empty. There was a few ledges and fans, the usual things that she only saw from afar, and she sighed in relief when she saw a door.

It was locked, though.

“Fucking hell,” Marinette swore, accepting her fate with some dignity left.

She sat down with her back against a wall, crossing her arms as she stubbornly waited for text. After patting down her body, trying to see if any other changes had occurred, she realised that she couldn't feel any discomfort. As the first time she'd met Adrien had been erased from his memory, she wondered whether the last one had been, too. And if that was true, it meant that her body had reset, though there hadn't been any marks left on her skin to prove her right or not (she was just going to assume so until proven wrong).

As it turned out, she didn't have to wait for long for answers.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _Chat Noir's the best partner I could wish for. When we're together, there's nothing that we can't face! There's no sidekick in our relationship—we're both heroes!_

The name took a while for her to connect the dots to Adrien asking whether he knew her better than Chat Noir did.

“So, I'm not alone, then,” she mused aloud, looking around the dimly-lit rooftop to see whether he'd turned up, knowing that she didn't have to venture far to prompt things along.

For all the minutes that she sat there waiting, it didn't prepare her for his appearance. The black-coloured mask around his eyes, the cat ears that were placed on his blond-coloured hair without any pins or a band, and a matching bodysuit that seemed to be made out of a similar material of her own. The strangest part, other than the bell attached to his collar, was the belt that was wrapped around his waist as a tail.

Well, she could shy they were both named badly.

It didn't stop her from laughing.

“I know, I know!” he started, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. “I'm horribly late, but do you know how _hard_ it is to transform with a bag on? Well, of course you do, but still.”

She chose to raise her eyebrows as an answer, knowing that the mask covering them would move and still show her expression—another detail that couldn't exist in her real life.

“Come on, Ladybug,” Chat Noir called, grinning widely as he gestured to the other side of the roof where she hadn't been able to see. “I've already set everything up.”

When she stood up and became aware of the text appearing in front of her, she almost tripped over.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _As we don't know each other outside of saving the city, we transform and meet up once a week to just talk. There's no drama, no villains, and nothing bad to worry about; well, other than Chat's puns._

That evening, just talking turned out to be takeaway containers on a soft-looking blanket with torch lantern in the middle to help illuminate the area. Marinette sat down in surprise on the blanket at first, a surprised by the blanket considering that they couldn't feel the lumps or comfortableness of the ground through their suits, but it was a nice gesture regardless.

The containers were placed in the middle between them, and Chat reached into his mentioned backpack to pass her some cutlery that he'd wrapped in brightly-coloured napkins.

Her first words to him that evening were, “You really put thought into this.”

When he turned to smile at her, clearly pleased with the compliment, she was shocked to see that the sclera of his eyes were green, blending in with his irides and making his pupil stand out more.

“Of course,” he agreed, moving closer until their knees touched from how they were sitting. “Our weekly meetings are the highlight of my life—other than seeing you in action, of course.”

She winced when she remembered her fumbling up the side of the dorm building before. “I'm sure.”

The food that he'd brought along, and clearly bought when he wasn't transformed due to his dilemma of changing, turned out to be her favourites. As with touch, as sex had proved, her sense of taste was realistic, meaning that she was savouring the mouthfuls of food that she hadn't eaten for months. And when he reached into his backpack again to present two bottled drinks with a dramatic flourish, she had to laugh at how it seemed that she had another person that seemed to know her too well.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _We can't reveal our identities to each other. It's not safe, and that makes me sad. Chat's so precious to me, but we have to protect ourselves first! Still, I wish I could know more about him..._

Marinette stared at the text, wondering whether her thoughts had been what had triggered it, as it answered what she was thinking perfectly.

Slight pain to her forehead brought her attention back to him.

“You're thinking too much,” Chat accused as he retracted his gloved hand, smile showing indents one each of his cheeks. “What's got you so worried, Bug?”

She adjusted her grip on her cutlery, suddenly put off from all the food between them. “This doesn't feel real, that's all.”

His expression softened, and when he spoke, his words were just as gentle. “I know.”

To be aware as she was throughout all the scenarios was out of place, but there was a chance she'd just forgotten her previous dreams. It was perfectly normal to be aware of them at the end and physically change them with thoughts but—but she couldn't _do_ that. When she tried to will something to change, it stubbornly stayed the same, never changing to what she desired. The only thing she seemed to have control over was responding to the text, along with picking one of the decisions.

She stared warily at the male beside her, wondering whether it would end up the same as the previous times. The text Marinette hadn't hinted to having a crush on him thus far, but there was still a possibility that it would appear. And, somehow, Adrien had previously had feelings for each version of herself, so there was a chance that Chat did, too.

“Are you here to confess your undying love to me?” she asked bluntly.

The immediate laughter seemed somewhat reassuring. “That's rushing it a bit,” Chat replied once he'd calmed down, though his voice was high-pitched due to his amusement. “I'd like to get to know you before trying to plan our lives together.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I want a life without skintight suits.”

“Someday,” he agreed, leaning back to rest his weight on his palms. “It feels really weird to wear tight clothing normally now because of this—if I put on really tight jeans, I feel like I'm a parkour expert all day.”

She put a hand over the weapon at her waist. “I'm never going to look at children's toys the same way again.”

Chat snickered. “Do you not enjoy seeing doll versions of you everywhere you go? I have to admit, I started laughing hysterically when I saw a t-shirt with my face on it the other day. My friends were looking at me weirdly because of it.”

They were liked by civilians, then. “This just seems like a dream most of the time, that's all.”

Chat grinned, showing his teeth as she leaned closer to rest his head on her shoulder. “Are you calling me the man of your dreams?”

She almost choked on her laughter. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“That doesn't sound like something a secure person would say,” he drawled, batting his eyelashes purposely slow as he looked up at her. “Am I not everything you want and more, Ladybug?”

Reaching up to pat his head, she noticed that she couldn't move the ears that were impossibly placed upon his hair. “For some reason, it seems like you are right now.”

His smile met his eyes. “Are you sure _you're_ not here to confess your undying love?”

Marinette didn't take long to answer, “I'm not sure what my options are yet.”

It was so strange to meet another person that knew her as well as Adrien had; in her actual life, there was only a few that were close enough to her to know all the small details, yet she'd decided to conjure up two blond-haired males to seemingly fawn over her. Whether that meant she was feeling lonely or not, she hadn't quite decided, but it had definitely made her feel appreciated.

And that was the weirdest part, really. Everything felt so genuine; from the smells, touches, and tastes, even the way Chat looked at her softly while illuminated by the street lights and the lamp he'd brought along with him, it didn't feel like a fever dream.

But she knew that it wasn't real.

“I like that I get you to myself every now and then,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he continued to rest against her shoulder in a position that didn't look too comfortable. “There's just—even in my normal life, there's still a lot going on, you know? But when I'm with you, you understand it all.”

And there was the small smidgen of guilt from not understanding the situation. She settled with running her clothed fingers through his hair, wondering whether it was as soft as it looked.

“I'm still nervous,” he continued quietly, barely audible. “I don't want to ruin this but... I want to know more about you.”

Her hand stilled.

Chat cleared his throat. “I have to ask, are you still okay with revealing ourselves tonight?”

That was what triggered the text.

 **A:  
** _We can't do this! I thought it was okay, but I can't reveal myself like that._

 **B:  
** _I know it's wrong but... I want to see him without the suit._

It wasn't even trying to hide the sexual undertones any more.

Marinette sighed, eyes flickering between the two options as she considered them. Going along with the flow before hadn't gotten her out of progressing to a new scenario but—but what if there was more than three? She wasn't sure how anything worked, nor whether there was requirements that she had to meet to advance onwards onto her actual life.

And Chat hadn't been anything but nice to her thus far. He seemed just as sweet as Adrien was; not too forward or arrogant, though the way his clothing clung and shoved every curve and dip of his body certainly helped the situation.

“Fine,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “B.”

Chat came back to life instantly, hiding his face in her shoulder so she couldn't see his expression. “I know we've only been partners for a year, but I do want to share everything with you.”

After some deliberation, not knowing how she had to word herself to progress things along, she settled with saying, “As long as you're sure.”

“If _you_ are,” he responded, moving so he was sitting upright beside her, no longer draped across her side. “We're only going through with this if you're wearing the mask underneath—we're not jumping into this immediately.”

“So you just want to see my hands?” As she hadn't known what she was wearing underneath the suit before, she had no way of knowing. She only hoped that it was something appropriate. “Here I was wondering about possible confessions, but I should be more worried about your wandering hands instead.”

He laughed, the sound slightly breathy. “I wouldn't touch you without permission. You'd absolutely kick my ass.”

The same as what Adrien had said, basically. “Are you scared of me?”

“Rightfully so, I've seen you beat up multiple people for a year,” Chat answered, bumping his shoulder gently against hers. “I'm more terrified that you won't like me when my clothing's baggy.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Not because your sclera will finally be normal?”

He put a hand over his heart and gasped. “Are you saying you don't like me as I am?”

“You're a bit dramatic,” Marinette pointed out with a laugh.

“I'm very offended.” He sniffed. “You had the great idea of us buying replica masks, so you won't get to see all the normal things about me—like my _eyelids_. Can you imagine how weird it'll be when you see my bare face?”

She only blinked when he turned to look at her.

Chat's expression brightened. “Is this how people feel when they finally show their faces without make-up on?”

“You're an idiot.”

He laughed.

The answers seemed to slowly fall into her lap without her having to try hard to find them out. “Replica masks aren't going to magically shape around our eyes, Chat,” Marinette wisely said, eyes flickering up to the top of his black-coloured mask. “I'll probably be able to see your eyebrows, too. Isn't that strange?”

“...I did not think about this.”

Grinning, Marinette pointed up to her own mask. “Are you sure you haven't fantasised about my eyebrows?”

“That's a really specific thing to ask,” Chat replied.

Her smile widened. “That doesn't sound like a no.”

“Look,” he started, crossing his arms over his chest. “There might've been a time where I tried to draw your eyebrows and hair, but it never looked right, okay? It's in the past and I'm definitely not digging them up later to find out whether I was right or not.”

She hummed, humouring him.

The food was packed away, remaining containers covered and put into his backpack to discard later, and they sat on the blanket for a while, just talking. Chat had a few jokes—as the text had hinted before—but they weren't overly terrible, so it seemed the tone of the text had been more fond than anything. He didn't seem like a bad guy; he asked about his day ambiguously, answering her questions without revealing too much about himself, but it was the silly details that he was eager to share.

Such as describing the large dog he saw on the street the previous day.

Marinette learned a lot about him just from talking normally, as if they were close friends that really knew each other. When he was excited, he moved his hands a lot to emphasise his words, and he had a tendency to mispronounce words in his haste to get to the point of the sentence, making his ears pink from embarrassment when he tried to correct himself.

“Okay.” he said suddenly, hands making a noise as he slapped his thighs. “I'm ready now that I've babbled away my nerves.”

She looked at him in confusion.

Chat stared right back at her.

Fiddling with her drink, Marinette tried to remember what exactly she'd said in the bathroom previously to drop the transformation. She'd blurted out a load of things, trying to see whether they'd work or not, and hadn't had the chance to figure it out before she was thrust into a new scenario.

Thankfully, he picked up upon her worries, but it wasn't for the right reasons. “Don't worry,” Chat reassured her, smile reaching his eyes. “I'll go first.”

It was flashy, but it wasn't the over-the-top transformation that she'd expected. After whispering a phrase underneath his breath, the suit seemed to dissolve into black particles—that _disappeared_ into thin air—and the cat ears vanished completely from his head, the mask changing into one of a different material that wouldn't magically bend to his expressions, meaning his blond-coloured eyebrows were sticking out at the top.

The white sclera wasn't as dramatic as she thought, and the t-shirt and jeans he had on were perfectly normal, nothing too out of place.

“It's nice to see you have healthy skin,” she blurted out as she stared at the short sleeves of his t-shirt.

A hand went up to fiddle with his hair, a nervous tick that he hadn't done too much. “I wasn't really thinking about the weather. I was too worried that we'd chicken out, honestly.”

It was nice to see the different sides of him. “Well,” Marinette started, taking a sip from her bottle for a pause. “It's very strange not seeing you dressed up in a fetish outfit.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes. “Like you're one to talk right now.”

She grinned.

As it turned out, assuming that the phrase was the opposite of what was said to transform—as that was what it had sounded like for him—wasn't wrong. She got it right on her second try, claiming the first was just for amusement, though it was really from the selection that she'd said in the past.

It wasn't her hair moving that alerted her that she'd succeeded that time.

A strangled noise escaped him as she shivered, having not expected the sudden chill. Chat hadn't recoiled from the temperature, not lamenting his lack of a jacket, so when she stilled from the uncomfortable feeling of being sat on the floor, there was a feeling of dread from expecting all the things that could've gone wrong.

When she looked down, it made sense why the only other option was to reject letting the transformation drop—because, apparently, agreeing to slowly get to know her superhero partner meant she was consenting to transforming into wearing only a mask.

It was no wonder her backside was uncomfortable.

At first, all she could do was stare blankly at her bare thighs, her eyelashes hitting the mask in an awkward way, before she panicked. Marinette fumbled with the blanket to cover her body, clutching the material to her chest before she turned to look at Chat, who had an equally wide-eyed expression.

“I thought I was dressed,” she blurted out in her defence, aware that her face was burning.

After an awkward moment of just staring at each other, Marinette's gaze flickered away as she wrapped the blanket further around herself, a bit irritated that she hadn't been able to get naked from her own choice that time. Regardless of the fact that Chat had been appealing thus far—and she was working up to the knowledge that she had to probably be intimate with him—she wanted it to be somewhat on her own terms, not magically appearing naked beside him without warning.

It was due to her thoughts that she didn't realise her error.

As Marinette tugged the blanket further over her, trying to put it beneath her backside so there wasn't anything as harshly digging into her skin any more, she managed to knock over the bottled drink that she'd been sipping from before. It wasn't until Chat made a surprised noise that she realised something had happened at all, and when she caught sight of the rapid darkening of his jeans from where the drink had fallen, she reached out with a fabric-clad hand to wipe some of the liquid away.

“I'm so sorry,” she apologised on reflex, trying to draw the drink out of his thighs, trying to reclaim some of her dignity as she avoided looking up to see him.

Chat cleared his throat as she continued to press the blanket across his legs. “It's—it's fine,” he said, voice shaking a bit. “You don't have to do this.”

“It's my fault,” she shot back, gingerly patting near his crotch.

It didn't stop her from noticing that he was aroused, and it was everything she'd seen in cliché media and more.

“Ladybug,” he started, reaching out and holding onto her wrist, stopping her movements before she'd really had the chance to do anything. There was no doubt that there had been enough liquid to seep through his jeans, and it was surely uncomfortable. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Well, that seemed to be the whole theme.

Marinette let out a shaky laugh at that, shoulders relaxing as she finally looked up to see his green-coloured eyes; they weren't too different from when he was transformed, other than the white of his sclera.

Rather than be put off from her response—which hadn't really been a response at all—Chat breathed out audibly. “I—tell me if I'm going too far here, but this... it really seems like you are,” he rambled, voice breaking at the beginning. “You don't exactly plan to meet up with your best friend naked.”

“I have a mask on, that has to count for something,” she quipped, finding amusement in the situation.

It wasn't mortifying, nor was she embarrassed about her body, and Chat's kindness was an added feature that she wasn't disapproving of. If anything, his responses were a breath of fresh air compared to the dominant figures that were usually featured in fiction (if her dream even counted as fiction—she wasn't too sure).

She could feel his fingers fidgeting nervously around her wrist, the grip not too tight or demanding. “That doesn't sound like a no.”

It was clearly an opening, but she still had to wonder whether her conscious actions had an effect on the story. Surely, if she hadn't managed to knock over the drink, they would've still managed to get to that point together. Regardless of how the world worked—it seemed far too complicated to ponder over, and she doubted she'd remember it in hours to come—Marinette chose to answer boldly, “Because it's not.”

She could see as he nervously swallowed, and if that wasn't endearing, then the redness that appeared on the top of his ears definitely was.

Her smile reached her eyes. “I'm kind of a dramatic person.”

“You literally had your hand over my crotch a few minutes ago,” Chat murmured, still keeping her hand in place. “You—you could've confessed normally to me, you know?”

She snorted. “Being naked on a rooftop isn't exactly my best idea, I can admit that.”

“You do have a mask on, though,” he reiterated, grin showing his dimples as he seemed to grow less nervous around her. It helped that the blanket was covering her body, though it wasn't doing anything for the shivers that were starting to appearing. Even though it was summer—or she had to assume it was from the weather—she would've preferred to be in some clothing. “And my blanket around you like a really lacklustre cape.”

Raising her eyebrows, Marinette replied, “You can't nitpick my clothing when your crotch is soaked.”

“And who's fault is _that_?”

“I was trying to dry it a little bit!” she defended with a laugh, adjusting how she was sitting so it was more comfortable. When she pulled her hand away from his, she received no resistance, and chose to intertwine her fingers with his shyly, a move far too shy for how bold she'd been before.

He squeezed her fingers gently. “It's going to be sticky no matter what you do.”

Marinette had opened her mouth to reply, but she closed her parted lips quickly, pondering whether use the line in a way that she'd only seen in erotica. It wasn't a situation where she was nervous and overwhelmed with the feelings she had for someone—Chat Noir was nice, yes, and there was an attraction there, but there was the fact that she wasn't going to see him again that spurred her on.

She wetted her lips and deliberately looked at him.

“I could lick it off,” she offered, somehow keeping a straight face.

For him, he couldn't. Chat burst into laughter, assuming her to be joking straight away, forgetting that she'd dropped her transformation dramatically to reveal her naked body to him, and it was only when he'd looked at her, expecting for the laughter to be returned, that he stopped.

The drastic change of his expression in a matter of seconds was astounding. “Are you—are you serious?” Chat stuttered, eyebrows absolutely visible above his mask.

Rubbing her thumb in circles on his skin, Marinette admitted, “Yes.”

“I—” Chat cut himself off, looking a bit conflicted for a moment before he breathed out loudly. “You're not doing this to tease me, are you?”

“Oh, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “I definitely take my clothes off just to tease every close friend I have.”

His hand tightened around hers. “I just meant because I'm not exactly trying to hide my massive crush on you!”

That was a recurring theme, along with text Marinette crushing on them, too—except she wasn't too sure from the text that had been for Chat thus far. Regardless, Marinette quietly pointed out, “That's even more reason to let me.”

His lips parted silently for a while before he finally said, “I don't want a pity blowjob because you spilled a drink on me.”

“I was naked before the drink happened,” she shot back, purposely not pulling the blanket back around her when it started to shift and not cover her front from where it was wrapped around her shoulders. “It's—because you suggested showing ourselves with these masks, I thought this was what you wanted.”

She didn't jump as he cupped her jaw gently.

“Ladybug,” he murmured, breath warm against her skin and their noses almost touching from how close they were, and she found her heartbeat increasing from how intimate it seemed. “I'm not saying I don't want this, okay? I just—I want to do so much more with you, too.”

Just how much did she want someone to adore her?

Covering his hand with hers, Marinette leaned into his touch and replied, “We can do that, too. I admit that the dimly-lit dinners haven't been a part of my dating experience before, I'm sure we can manage until we decide to fully reveal everything about ourselves.”

Chat's lips curled into a large smile. “Is that your way of hinting that you want to date me?”

So far, none of them had wanted just casual sex; there was promises of feelings and future dates, and at first she'd felt a bit bad about that—even more so than when she'd rejected Adrien in the beginning—but it was just projecting what she wanted, wasn't it?

“Absolutely,” she whispered, a lump in her throat from having to admit ho lonely she must feel usually. “I'm one hundred percent single, and I sincerely hope that you are, too.”

“I am.” His nose touched hers briefly, mouth hovering close. “I can't exactly be with someone when I'm hopelessly pining after you.”

As much as she wanted to laugh at the line, Marinette chose instead to press her lips to his. There was slight hesitance, their movements slow and clumsy as they tried to get more comfortable, and she untangled her hand from his, the other one falling from her face, and reached out to rest one on his damp thigh and grasped loosely onto his t-shirt with the other as she angled her head up to get a better position. The softness of his lips and the warmth of his breath assured her that it could at least feel real, and the tentative way he seemed to treat her—scared that he'd hurt her somehow—made her feel loved rather than patronising.

The masks were a bit annoying. Hers dug into her eyes at times, especially when his cheeks pushed it, but it wasn't irritable enough that she was going to pull it off from frustration. She assumed that Chat was in the same boat, especially as his reached the end of his nose, letting the curve of it only just poke out.

He settled with pulling the blanket to cover her completely, holding it together as they kissed, a move that would've been more suited to him shying away. And yet, he was the one that deepened the kiss, curiously darting his tongue out to reach hers.

Marinette hummed in appreciation, not pushing him away. The kiss wasn't bad; sure, he'd been slow and hesitant at first, but she had been, too. They'd relaxed as it continued, and she wasn't worrying about every moment, scared that she'd make a fool of herself. From what she could tell, Chat seemed to be smitten for her, so even if she messed up (as she'd done with the transformation), he wouldn't make snide remarks about it. If anything, when she'd accidentally caused their teeth to clash from being too eager, he seemed to have a positive response to it.

As the warmth appeared in her abdomen, travelling lower with every flick of his tongue and the way he felt slotted against hers, Marinette shifted her legs, pressing her thighs closer together. The blanket was still covering her due to his silence insistence, but that didn't stop her from moving the hand that she had on his thigh higher up. Her fingertips trailed over the damp area until she reached his crotch, purposely pressing her hand down to create friction as she palmed against him.

She was rewarded with a muffled moan.

Taking his lack of pushing her away as a positive response, Marinette fiddled with the button of his jeans before pulling the zip down as best as she could with her eyes closed, laughing as she fumbled and failed to accomplish her goal a few times at first. She could feel Chat smiling as they kissed, and knowing he was enjoying their interaction in more than one way was always reassuring.

Running her hand over the shape of his arousal on his damp underwear, she pulled her head away from his when a thought struck her. “Does the suit hide it when you're erect?”

Chat didn't open his eyes before he burst into laughter, taking one hand away from her blanket to place it over his face as he continued to chortle, the sound breathy and honest.

Marinette laughed, not ashamed of her curiosity. “Aren't you going to tell me?”

“Why do you even want to know something that specific?” he shot back, grinning widely.

She shrugged, causing the blanket to slip from one of her shoulders, allowing the breeze to touch the skin near her collarbones. “It seems like an important fact to know,” she declared. “I know we can't feel pain or injure ourselves, but I would've thought I could feel pleasure, you know? But that's not the case at all—well, it makes sense, I guess. Blocking everything instead of just the negative, I mean.”

He blinked. “I don't know what you're trying to say.”

With a deliberate press against his crotch, Marinette said, “Let's just say I won't be able to feel it if you ever touch my breasts while I'm transformed.”

Rather than pressing her for more information, or even finding out the situation, he laughed. “Well, since you were kind enough to tell me that, then no, it doesn't hide it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Chat nodded, a bit breathy as she continued to palm his arousal. “It—it changes to fit our bodies, right? So, even if we eat a lot while in them, it'll adjust to make sure it still works—that just happens to apply to another area for me, too.”

She placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I'm assuming this is a hallucination right now, so you're welcome,” he replied, sounding a bit dazed as she fiddled with the waistband on his underwear. “And before you tease me, of course I've thought about this before.”

It was a boost to her already inflated ego.

There was no protests as she pulled his underwear down, using her other hand to reveal his arousal fully. The lamp that he'd wisely brought along hadn't been damaged when she'd panicked, meaning she was able to see clearly despite how dark it had become around them. Marinette's eyes flickered back up to his face, admiring the colour on his cheeks and the way his reddened lips were slightly swollen—all of it entirely her doing, and the fact that she had someone who was so clearly infatuated with her at the tip of her fingers was exhilarating.

She kissed him again, shutting her eyes on instinct as she gently grasped him with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to keep herself balanced. As she started to move, stroking him at a teasing pace, she didn't flinch when his grip on the blanket faltered, the material falling to the sides from where it was resting on her shoulders, sure to reveal herself when he looked again. She was excited to see his reaction to that more than anything; they'd be refreshing thus far, the mixture of shyness and hesitance mirroring how she'd felt in the beginning.

There was something exciting about knowing it wasn't real.

Her lips were already wet when she pulled away from him,wasting no time to tuck the blanket underneath her knees to get more comfortable. With the hand still on his thigh, she lowered herself down to press a kiss to his tip, the blanket sowing most of the front of her body. She didn't know whether it was her actions or him opening his eyes that caused him to make a strangled noise, but whichever option it was, it was a compliment.

Marinette slowly took more of him into her mouth, the other hand on the bottom of his member, idly stroking the parts that she couldn't reach. She bobbed her head steadily, building up a rhythm as the warmth between her legs grew with every noise that escaped him. There was no denying that he sounded attractive, and when one of his hands came to rest in her hair—not quite moving her head to encourage her but just there to grip onto the dark strands—it heightened the experience more.

Pulling back every now and then to lick her lips and make sure it wasn't too sloppy, and taking the chance to steady her breath, she pressed kisses to his tip and ran her tongue along the side before resuming taking in as much as she could, aware that there was a dull ache appearing in her jaw.

Chat chose that moment to say, “This seems really one-sided.”

Marinette pulled her head back, keeping her hand moving lazily. “I'm not the one that had drink spilled all over me.”

“You're using that as an excuse, and you know it,” he pointed out, the hand in her hair moving down to cup her jaw as he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “I very much doubt that you can even taste it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That's besides the point.”

“My point is that you're only wearing a blanket as a cape and I haven't done anything about it yet,” Chat replied.

“I like my cape, thank you.”

He rolled his eyes, breathing out audibly in amusement. “You know that's not what I meant at all.”

“Why don't you tell me, then?” She batted her eyelashes on purpose, just to draw a laugh out of him. “Otherwise I won't know.”

“Or,” he started, leaning closer so their mouths were almost touching, “I could show you—only if you tell me it's okay, of course.”

She tightened her grip, smiling widening as she saw him swallow. “If I didn't want you to do anything, I would've ran away and changed back.”

“So you really are seducing me,” he mused, not jumping when he placed a hand on her waist, the warmth of his skin a nice contrast from her own. In a matter of moments he trailed his fingertips down her body, over his hips and feeling her backside before caressing the sensitive part of her thighs, narrowing avoiding where she wanted him to go most. “I honestly thought you only saw me as a friend, Ladybug.”

Keeping her hand moving, Marinette settled with asking, “Would a friend really turn up with no clothes on underneath a magical suit?”

“Judging from how you panicked and tried to play it off as a mistake, I'm not too sure,” Chat replied, briefly brushing over her arousal before he pulled away, back to tracing patterns on her thighs in a teasing way. “I don't usually do this with my friends.”

She blinked. “Just because you have feelings for me doesn't make me any less of your friend.”

His ministrations stilled. “That's—that's _not_ what I meant,” Chat blurted, talking quickly. I just—I meant that I don't like to do this without—”

Marinette swiftly placed a kiss to his cheek, an innocent gesture that seemed rather out of place for what they were doing. “I was teasing you.”

“Oh.” His thumb started to move again. “That's not very nice, I was opening up to you.”

“I'm the one that's most open right now,” she pointed out with a grin. “Are you going to do anything about that?”

As their noses brushed, his mask dug into her skin a little. “You're absolutely right,” Chat said, his hand moving to cup her arousal, fingertips touching her damp skin. “I really should do something.”

When he pressed a finger within her without hesitation, he took advantage of her gasp to kiss her. It was a move that he wouldn't have done at the beginning of their encounter, but it seemed like he was building up confidence from her reactions; after all, she hadn't rejected him thus far. As he started to move, she responded to the kiss the best that she could do with the building sensations, breaths coming fast as she became gradually looser.

He added another digit in gently, making sure not to hurt her as he did so, and when he rubbed his thumb across her protrusion to add to the pleasure she was feeling, Marinette let out a moan. She started to pump him slowly again, only just remembering that she'd been doing it at all, and she could only hope that he was feeling a little of the what she was. As it turned out, her fantasy partners seemed more focused on her pleasure rather than their own (other than Adrien's slip in the past), and didn't jump her immediately, instead waiting for consent.

And, oh, did she find that attractive.

When he brushed against the bundle of nerves within her, Marinette broke away from the kiss, resting her head on his shoulder instead. The fabric felt cool against her cheek, closing her eyes as she breathed against his neck, and focus on enjoying the moment.

She was the one to tap at his hand, making him pull away as he curiously asked, “Ladybug?”

It didn't really matter whether she was chasing the text or her own pleasure. “That's not all you want to do, is it?” she asked, placing a kiss to the exposed flesh of his neck.

“Up—up here?” Chat stuttered out, a bit high-pitched.

“I know we can't go to a hotel or anything,” she said, assuming the word would get out if their alter egos went anywhere together in public outside of fighting, “but I wouldn't mind continuing here.”

His hands settled on her hips, hands warm against her skin. “I don't have anything with me.”

“Your bag isn't packed with all the essentials?” she teased, biting his neck lightly. “It's not a problem if you don't.” It wasn't as though protection was a problem in her dreams, but she supposed without the dialogue, it would've seen unrealistic.

“Oh,” he murmured, his trail of thought absolutely different than her own. “Are you sure?”

Marinette wrapped her arms around his shoulders, mouth hovering close to his as she answered, “Yes, I am.”

He audibly swallowed. “I would've been happy just to hold your hand.”

“You can hold my hand during,” she replied with a grin, the smile reaching her eyes as he spluttered from laughter. “We don't have to go slow, you know. I trust you already.”

When she stood up, blanket draped over her shoulders as she offered a hand out to him, he accepted the offer and got up to his feet, not bothering to adjust his clothing. Marinette placed another kiss to his lips before she held onto one of his hands, the other tucking some hair behind her ear and adjusting her mask in the process; the cord that went around the back helped to keep it on well, even though it had become a bit skewed from their activities.

With the wise choice of picking up the lantern and bringing it along, she tugged him towards a raised piece of the roof, one that wasn't as high as the border around the rooftop. It wasn't the most convenient place, but it was the best out of the options.

Chat's raised eyebrows were clearly judgemental.

“Hear me out,” Marinette started with a laugh. “I can cover it with the blanket when I sit down so it's not as harsh, and I won't have to have a lot of my skin against the floor this way—I think it would be way worse than carpet burn, don't you?”

He huffed out a laugh. “You're ridiculous.”

She squeezed his hand before she let go, putting the blanket to where she wanted before perching on the edge, knees touching as she crossed her arms from the chill. “I regret the lack of clothing, yes, but I had a goal in mind when I came here.”

“Getting into my pants, apparently,” he quipped.

Playfully, she narrowed her eyes and reached out to tug him closer by the waistband of his jeans that were still open. “Are you complaining?”

“No, absolutely not,” Chat quickly said, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “It's definitely a nice change to see you out of the skintight suit.”

Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to his tip. “You haven't tried to draw this like my eyebrows, have you?”

It wasn't the same before; Marinette didn't hesitate and place kisses across his skin to draw it out, and instead ran her tongue along the underside before bobbing her head a few times, focusing more on making him damp than giving him pleasure. Chat didn't complain as she did so, nor did he reply, but the stuttered breaths that escaped him were always a good sign.

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand when she was done, looking up through her lashes at him. “Well?”

His parted lips closed as he visibly faltered on how to reply.

Marinette laughed at that. “I was just teasing you, it's okay.”

“You're—” Chat paused, clearing his throat as he ran a hand through his hair, almost knocking the mask out of place with the action. “You're a lot more confident at this than I thought you would be.”

“Oh?” It sounded almost like an insult, but she knew that he probably didn't mean it that way. Even though they'd both fumbled, had awkward kisses, and been a bit hesitant, she didn't think that he'd been put off by her behaviour—Adrien from before hadn't remarked that she was different from normal, and neither did Chat, so she had to assume that it wasn't that noticeable. “Am I supposed to be a blushing virgin?”

The redness on his ears showed that he was embarrassed. “I didn't mean it like that,” Chat insisted, talking quickly and missing a few syllables from his haste. “I just—it's hard to think about you like this? Being into me, I mean. I never thought I'd get this far with you at all, and it's not like I have any experience with how you might be.”

Tugging him forward by his jeans so he stepped between her open legs, Marinette smiled. “So you don't have a problem?”

“With you?” He blinked. “Absolutely not. You're—you're _amazing_.”

She snorted. “At least hold the praise until after we're done, Chat.”

“No way,” he said, hands on her thighs as he moved her legs to wrap around him. “You're suffering from the cold because you wanted to seduce me. How can I ignore that?”

“I'm not asking you to ignore it,” she pointed out, reaching down to hold his arousal with one hand and guide him closer. “I'm just saying, there's a time and a place for compliments.”

His nose brushed against hers from their lack of distance. “All the time when I'm with you? I agree.”

She let out a laugh. “You can't suddenly turn the charm on now.”

“Why not?” Chat questioned, placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I've loved you for months, Ladybug, and now that I know that those feelings are returned, I'm not going to hold back any more.”

Purposely pressing his tip against the sensitive part between her legs, pleased with the sensation that had been missing for a while, Marinette murmured, “That's a bit inappropriate to say in this situation.”

“I—not like _that_ ,” he choked out with a laugh, resting his forehead against hers. “I meant with the compliments! I'm not going to force you to do sexual things with me.”

She breathed out loudly. “I'm going to hurt you if you don't stop stalling soon.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he sang, hands running over her backside in appreciation. “Having you in my arms is more than enough.”

“ _Chat_ ,” she hissed, one arm wrapping around his shoulders as she moved his member lower. “Just have sex with me already.”

He hummed. “There seems to be something missing in that sentence.”

It was just so ridiculous. Marinette laughed, eyes shut and shoulders shaking from her amusement as she did so. From the realistic feelings to the teasing, it seemed that even when her only goal appeared to be having sex with unknown men—two of them, at least—it couldn't just be straightforward. There was feelings involved, along with hesitance and charm that she was sure wouldn't be there on normal one-night stands. Then again, it wasn't as though they were really counting for anything.

“You're terrible,” she accused fondly. “Please.”

“I'm going to pretend you didn't say the first part,” he announced, hands settling on her hips as he pushed his own forward.

There was a slight stretch, along with the distinct feeling of warmth, but it wasn't bad. Marinette sucked in a breath as she waited to adjust, grateful that he was giving her a moment of peace as he was fully situated inside her, looking out for her comfort more than seeking his pleasure. She brushed some of the blond tresses out of his face, the strands too short to stay behind his ears without product, and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose that wasn't fully covered by the mask.

He laughed. “That seems a bit too innocent.”

“Shut up and let me appreciate you,” Marinette shot back, looping both her arms around his shoulder and pulling him closer. It caused a shift in their position, one that wasn't unwelcome as it reignited the building pleasure within her abdomen. With her thighs on either side of him, not trying to clumsily put her ankles together, she murmured, “It's only fair that you keep me warm since you're still fully dressed.”

Chat pulled out slowly before putting his hips back, looking at her expression as though he was waiting for her to announce any pain and discomfort. It was another feature that she appreciated; still, even when they were having sex, it seemed her partners were more concerned with her experience than their own.

When he smiled, it showed his dimples. “I'll try my best.”

They were clumsy at first. Marinette tried to sit as far on the edge as she could and hold herself up, practically clinging to him as her eyes closed from pleasure as he rocked into her, and Chat tried his best not to let her fall in the process. The blanket wasn't doing much to stop the discomfort, but the feeling of his pelvis brushing against her protrusion with every thrust cancelled out the inconvenience.

The cars below on the streets didn't drown out the sound of their slick skin, nor the moans that escaped as she tried to muffle them into his neck, holding him close. With every pleasurable noise that he made in return, Marinette could feel herself getting closer, face feeling hot and the mask sticking to her skin in the worst way. The string was still holding it up, somehow, though she was sure it would be askew from how she was hiding her face in his neck.

With his fingertips digging into her skin, surely leaving marks, Marinette's breaths were coming out fast and inconsistently. She'd managed to get further than she had with Adrien—and what a shame that had been—and the feelings were still just as realistic, so much so that she almost thought that it truly was happening. Clutching onto his shirt, Marinette let out a moan, aware that she as desperate to fulfil the pleasure that she was seeking.

Her legs tightened, her body falling slack against him as she tried to take in deep breaths to regulate her breathing, not protesting as he continued to rock into her at a fast pace, trying to reach the same state. It wasn't too long after that he shuddered, almost collapsing on top of her when he became limp, the hands that had been on her falling onto what she was sitting on to keep himself up.

Sitting upright, Marinette brushed the hair from his face again, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek. “I definitely can't say I'm cold now.”

His body shook when he laughed. “Stop being cute, I'm trying to recover here.”

“I kind of have an important question, though.”

His smile met his eyes. “Shoot.”

She tried hard not to laugh as she asked, “Do you think I'll be able to feel the wetness in the suit?”

 **END ROUTE:  
** _LADYNOIR_

**GOOD END**

-x-

 **START ROUTE:  
** _MARICHAT_

She shivered.

It wasn't because of her lack of clothing, thankfully. Marinette leaned against something solid as she tried to adjust to the change of setting, the feel of fabric beneath her palms calming and assuring her that she wasn't a superhero as the previous times.

When she opened her eyes, she was greeted with floating text.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _I really needed some air. Karaoke's fun with friends, but Adrien said he wasn't feeling well. It's not as fun without him here._

“I'm back to being friends with Adrien, then,” she mused, running a hand through her hair.

As predicted, she was outside a karaoke bar of some sort—which had obnoxious signs outside and offers for cheap alcohol—and the weather wasn't as nice as before. Snow had turned into slush in the roads, plants covered by white, and she was wrapped up in a large scarf that she couldn't resist holding up to her face for warmth.

There wasn't anyone outside with her. Other than Adrien and Chat, she hadn't met or interacted with anyone new (other than seeing them in a few pictures). She wondered whether attempting to talk to a stranger would change the outcome of the situation.

If Adrien wasn't there, then she had to wonder who her target was.

She laughed at her thoughts.

As it wasn't real—it couldn't be, not when there was floating text and options to choose—it was exciting to be as promiscuous as she wanted, though she supposed it would've made more sense if she was indulging in kinks that she was too shy to do in real life.

Tucking her hands into her coat pockets, a bit amazed that it really was a piece of clothing that she owned, Marinette just stood there, watching her breath that was visible in the air as she waited for a prompt of some sort. Going back to the friends were out of the question, as she'd written them off immediately, and she didn't fancy looking into different rooms in an attempt to find out where she was supposed to be. The task would've been harder as the only recognisable person wasn't present.

The approaching figure crossing the street two minutes later was what she was waiting for.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _Wait—I think I see Chat Noir! We didn't agree to meet up today, why is he transformed? Oh, no! He's walking right towards me. He probably doesn't even remember me as Marinette._

Text Marinette was full of anxiety, panicked about almost everything, and tended to sound like a child. Whenever she read them, it was hard to acknowledge that they were supposed to be the same person.

Pushing herself off of the wall, Marinette greeted him with a raised chin as she asked, “Aren't you above using the crossing, Chat Noir?”

Bewildered was a good way to describe his expression.

Chat was familiar. She'd spent hours in his company in what seemed like only minutes ago, and she hadn't found him too bad; in actuality, if he was a normal person, she would've befriended him from how kind he'd been when they'd had dinner together. The awkward sex had just been a bonus (one that she hadn't minded too much, but she usually preferred those activities with feelings).

“Hi, I'm Marinette,” she continued when he didn't answer, raising a hand before she tucked it back into her jacket. “We met before.”

Running a hand through his hair, not knocking off the cat ear that she was still confused about, Chat offered her a smile as he said, “I know who you are, princess.”

 **MARINETTE:  
** _He remembers the nickname he gave me last year! But he looks... sad? His smile isn't reaching his eyes at all._

She tried not to grimace at how eager that had came across.

Chat Noir was still her partner, wasn't he? It was natural that Marinette was acquainted with him, then, even if he didn't know that it was her in her civilian form—and she assumed that their encounter on the rooftop had been rewritten, forgotten in time along with the shift of the season. There weren't many consistencies, but she could count on that one.

“Oh, that's surprising,” she mused, smile showing her teeth. “I can't even remember my shopping list most of the time, but you're able to memorise our entire city?”

“Not quite.” The smile he returned really didn't reach his eyes, nor did it show his dimples. “I just remember the pretty ones, that's all.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That's just tacky.”

Chat came to stand beside her, no longer hovering by the crossing. “Is it?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

As he hadn't walked away, she took it as a sign that he wanted to talk—well, of course he did, he was the reason that she'd been summoned into such a scene.

“Awful,” Marinette confirmed with a laugh. “It sounds like something a serial killer would say, honestly. You might want to work on your delivery if you want to win Ladybug's heart.”

Despite the mask, she was able to see his features scrunch up in confusion. “Why would I want to win her heart?”

That was close to confirming her suspicions that their affections would always be directed at her, then. “It comes across as you wanting to be partners in everything together, including life.”

He hummed, tapping a finger against his chin. “We'd be the best platonic couple ever, I agree.”

“Platonic, eh?” she queried, predicting where their conversation was bound to go. “Have you got someone else in your heart, Chat Noir?”

“It's possible,” he replied vaguely, his expression not betraying his casual indifference. “It doesn't matter when I have to focus on saving the city outside of my own life, however. Trying to ask a pretty girl out in the middle of that isn't exactly ideal.”

As much as she wanted to just outright ask if it was her—as it surely was, considering feelings had been directed at her in the past scenarios—she decided to ask instead, “Does this mean you remember the name of said pretty girl?”

Chat paused for a moment, clearly debating his answer, before he eventually parted his lips to reply quietly, “I don't only see her when I'm transformed, so yes.”

She didn't ponder over that too much.

When time stilled, it wasn't as shocking as the previous times. Marinette only blinked, trying to stay in the exact place as she was in before to read the text, already knowing where the night would lead—the winter night, as weather inconsistency meant she wasn't going to get naked on a rooftop again, thankfully.

 **A:  
** _I want to invite him in to karaoke. I'm sure there's a free room for us._

 **B:  
** _Why would talking to me cheer him up? I should go back to my friends._

“A,” she announced, tugging her scarf up higher.

The cold breeze greeted her face as Chat averted his eyes, shuffling his feet as he turned to the side. “I'll just—have a good evening, Marinette.”

Leaving wasn't in the options, so she boldly reached out to hold onto his clothed wrist as she called out, “Wait!”

“I—what?” Chat stuttered, visibly caught off-guard from their close distance as she stopped him from walking away.

“Sorry,” she said insincerely, letting go. “I just wanted to ask whether you're free for the rest of the evening. There's no attack tonight, right?” She would've been transformed as Ladybug if there was one, but it was a relief that she wasn't expected to battle some unknown foe, and instead charm her way into a familiar male's pants instead.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “No, there's not,” Chat admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed. “I wanted a break for a bit, that's all.”

“Great.” She grinned, taking one hand out of her pocket to point towards the bar behind her. “Want to grab a room and sing some songs with me? I was here with friends, but I kind of excused myself before you came along.”

Looking between her and the bar a few times, he eventually asked, “What?”

“It's a better way of blowing off steam than wandering the streets, isn't it?” Marinette questioned, shrugging her shoulders. “You're not even doing the fancy stuff if you're sadly crossing the street like a pedestrian. If that doesn't scream that you need to sing to get your feelings out, then I don't know what does.”

His laughter was abrupt, breathy, and slightly high-pitched from how honest it was. Marinette grinned right back, not taking back her offer despite how amused he seemed by it, and she instead shifted her weight on her feet, rocking on her heels as she waited for his answer.

Chat reached up a gloved hand to wipe at one of his eyes as he asked, “Are you serious?”

“I'm absolutely willing to get the bill,” she replied, gesturing towards the front door. “You can pay me back another day—it's not like you can try and run away when I can go to the nearest news crew and say that you robbed me blind.”

He snorted. “Are you sure you want to be seen going anywhere with me?”

“If that's your way of asking to sneak in the back door, go right ahead,” Marinette said with a laugh. “Give me a few minutes to book a room and I'll leave my scarf on the handle so you know where to go.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “There's cameras.”

“You're literally dressed in black in the night, I don't think they'll really care,” she mused. “Besides, it looks like quite a shady place. I bet they don't even ask for identification.”

Chat turned to look at the building in a new light. “So, you're trying to convince me to go into a criminal hotspot?”

“Sure, why not?” She grinned. “You have to relax somehow.”

Surprisingly—or not so much—he agreed. Marinette found her purse within the small bag that was hanging upon her shoulder, one that she hadn't noticed before she'd started patting herself down inside to make sure she was able to actually pay.

It wasn't the cleanest place, nor the best-looking. It had cracks in the walls and dust on the surfaces, but it was cheap and located near the university—something it prided itself on from the posters—and she didn't have any complaints when she found the room that she was given. After leaving her scarf on the door as she'd promised, she shrugged out of her coat to reveal the long-sleeved dress and tights that she was wearing, and she rolled her eyes from figuring out why she'd been so cold in the first place.

For a place that text Marinette had been so reluctant to go to, she'd certainly dressed up.

She busied herself with looking through the menu of drinks that was left on the table, recalling the instructions to go to the front desk to order and wait for anything, as deliveries wasn't something the bar did.

When Chat appeared, Marinette raised her eyebrows and said, “That took you a while.”

He huffed out a laugh as he closed the door behind him, and she was glad that there weren't any windows. “I waited until the coast was clear, okay?”

“You'd be the worst cat burglar,” she proclaimed. “Now, tell me what you want off this so I can order everything in bulk and look like I'm binging by myself.”

He swiftly caught the menu, not fumbling and dropping her scarf in the process. “Are you sure?”

“I promise not to tell anyone if you get wasted and sing terrible songs,” she said, placing a hand over her heart dramatically. “I did say I'd pay for you, right? Since you seem so down, that includes food and drink for tonight.”

Turning over the menu as he leaned against the wall, having not walked too far in the room or not sat beside her, Chat remarked, “That sounds an awful lot like a date.”

“A pity date because you obeyed traffic laws,” she quipped. “As long as you don't try and turn me into your sugar mommy, I'm sure my wallet can handle keeping you sated.”

He laughed. “I'll pay you back the next time I see you, then.”

“When you're transformed, right?” Marinette grinned, resting her elbows on her knees and her jaw in his palms as she looked at him across the room. “I can't say I react well to strangers walking up to me and offering me money.”

As he jutted his lower lip out, Marinette was pleased to see that he'd cheered up a little. “You don't want me as your sugar daddy, princess?”

“Absolutely not,” she replied flatly. “Now, are you going to tell me what you want?”

It took two trips to bring everything she ordered back to the room, and that was including the trays that were provided. She'd splurged for non-alcoholic drinks that would taste nice along with some of the minimal unhealthy food that they provided. While Chat had looked at her in surprise when she'd arrived with the first tray, he laughed and looked at her fondly when she put down the food on the table, taking the seat beside him, rather than across.

It wasn't as nice as the dinner he'd provided her with when she was Ladybug, but it was the best she could do.

Chat didn't move away from her when she sat down, surprisingly. “You didn't have to do this,” he said, a gloved hand going up to fiddle with his hair before it dropped back down by his side again.

“I missed dinner,” she lied with a shrug, not knowing whether it was a lie or not. “Want to flip a coin to see who gets to sing first?”

He nodded eagerly. “How long do we have?”

“A couple of hours,” Marinette said truthfully. “It was cheaper to book a few since it came with a discount for drinks.”

His mask made it so his eyebrows were covered, but she was able to tell that they were raised. “You were planning this all along?”

“To hear your awful singing while gorging on unhealthy food?” She looked at him innocently. “Never.”

The atmosphere wasn't awkward. Marinette won the rights to go first, and she chose a horrendous song from her childhood on purpose, singing shrill and flat at the worst times just to see Chat scrunch his face up in response while laughing. She didn't feel pressured to try and impress him, even though she knew where the night would eventually go; if anything, she felt comfortable with him from their previous night together, even though it hadn't included dreadful songs.

He laughed even harder when her score came back dreadfully low.

Marinette placed the microphone against his chest with more force than necessary, even though she knew that he wouldn't feel it. “Let's see you do better, then.”

She shouldn't have trusted his grin.

The choice in song was even worse than her own, and she almost choked on her drink when he screeched one of the notes.

When his score came back higher than hers, Marinette threw her hands up in exasperation. “You were _terrible_!”

“My voice is just more pleasant than yours, it's okay,” Chat mockingly soothed her as he patted her shoulder in fake sympathy. “Someday, you might get half as good as me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to challenge me here?”

“Me? _Never_.” His grin was smug, a large contrast to his neutral expression that he'd donned when crossing the street. “But a healthy competition isn't something I'd turn down.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, reaching out and snatching the microphone back. “You're actually a child, did you know that?”

“That doesn't sound like a no,” he sang, scooting closer to bump his shoulder against hers.

It was something only friends did. Chat was more comfortable with her than he should've been with someone that he'd only seen once before, let alone a civilian that he'd seen once in passing. Marinette stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, wondering whether to question his behaviour, but when she caught sight of the genuine smile and relaxed posture, she didn't want to ruin that with her curiosity.

What did it matter if he knew her when he was a civilian anyway?

She bumped his shoulder right back. “You're on, Chat Noir.”

His smile was almost blinding. “You can just call me Chat, you know.”

“That's kind of you,” she replied, taking the remote and searching through the list of songs. “And you can call me by my actual name, thank you.”

Leaning back with his arms resting behind his head, Chat winked at her. “Anything for you, princess.”

She scowled.

“That was the last one, I promise.” He laughed. “Want to do this in rounds?”

It wasn't the round she had in mind, but it was fun, at least. “Sure.”

“Okay!” he exclaimed, already adjusting his position as he sat upright and clapped his hands together once to show his enthusiasm—it seemed that staying still was hard for him most of the time. “Does winner getting to choose whatever they want as a reward after each round sound good to you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You mean after one song each?”

“Best out of three might be too hard to keep track of,” he said, gesturing towards their lack of paper to write down their scores on. “This way will be easier, right? More chances to earn bragging rights, too.”

After agreeing and picking out her song, she turned to look at him smugly when her score was almost perfect. Chat playfully bowed, causing her to shove him lightly with a laugh, and it turned out that when he wasn't trying hard to sound awful, he wasn't too bad. Good enough to win by one point, even.

“So,” he sang, stretching out his arm to drape it over her shoulders as he pulled her closer. “Ready to grant me my wish, Marinette?”

She curled her upper lip and took his arm off of her. “Only because you called me by my name.”

“I could call you by your name daily and you wouldn't realise it,” Chat declared before clearing his throat. “Okay, prize number one will be you answering something honestly. You okay with that?”

It was surprisingly innocent, but then again, there hadn't been any sexual tension between them. If she didn't know that the goal was highly likely to be sleeping with him, she would've assumed that they were only friends.

Marinette nodded, tucking some of her dark hairs behind her ear.

With averted eyes, he fiddled with the microphone as he questioned, “Why did you invite me in?”

It was a question loaded with insecurities. She was never thrust into a sexually charged setting that disregarded feelings; instead, she'd seen him and Adrien be nervous and embarrassed, along with a whole spectrum of emotions that shouldn't have been there in normal sexual fantasies.

She answered softly, “You looked like you needed a friend.”

Chat rested his chin in his palm, elbow on his clothed knee, surely not able to feel that it was there at all. “And you decided you'd be the perfect friend for me?”

“No,” Marinette admitted, not seeing the point in lying completely. “I just—you were wandering out there for no reason, and I thought we could both do with some fun. I wanted to see you smile, I guess.” She omitted the other things that she wanted to see, deeming them too inappropriate for the time being.

He swallowed. “Aren't you supposed to be with your friends?”

The answer came easily. “It wasn't that fun without my best friend, so I left and bumped into you.”

“I'm not stealing your alone time, am I?”

She snorted. “I'd much rather be with you than waiting for some text to appear.”

“That's—that's really sweet of you,” he whispered, a soft smile on his lips. “Not many people actually try and invite me in with honest intentions. I can't tell you the amount of times I've been propositioned when Ladybug's not by my side.”

Hiding her wince by taking the microphone from his hands, Marinette directed their conversation back to their ongoing competition. Chat didn't protest from the sudden change, and his posture went back to being relaxed—his laughter was loud and free, especially when she messed up her pronunciation on purpose and scored perfectly for the messed up verses.

When she won the round, she enquired, “Is it too impersonal to ask why you were out tonight?”

“It's fine,” he assured her, accepting his defeat gracefully despite the fact he'd screeched out his disbelief at the score only a few moments ago. “I just got sad? I mean, I _was—_ things just kind of built up and I realised that I'm probably never going to be anything more than a friend to the girl I like.”

She made a noise of acknowledgement. “Want to know what I did the last time I freaked out about liking a friend?”

He looked at her quizzically. “Sure.”

Marinette wasn't embarrassed to admit, “I panicked when I tried to ask him out on a date, which resulting in me telling him I was interested in his sister.”

It was worth it to hear his laughter. “No,” he breathed, choked up from his amusement. “How did that work out for you?”

She put her fist in the air in what was usually a celebratory way. “I got a pity hug because she already had a girlfriend.”

The following round, Chat won. He asked her for another embarrassing story, one that had the both of them laughing, and she retaliated by asking the same in return when she won the next. They weren't taking it too seriously after the first few songs, instead going back to the shrill and over-the-top singing that made each other laugh after they'd established that their their prizes were innocent.

The most scandalous one came from Chat. “Do you have anyone you like right now?”

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “What if I say yes?”

“I'm not going to pry any more,” he assured her, looking a bit flustered as he handed the microphone over. “I—I just want to know about you, I think.”

Trying not to laugh was hard when she replied, “I might have someone in my sights.”

He kept eye contact for a few seconds before looking away, the redness of his ears giving away his emotions.

It was a feature about him that she appreciated, even more than the tight outfit.

Chat won again, and then asked her about what she was looking for in a date. It had such a casual delivery, no sign of the nervous that had been there minutes ago, and she'd simply stared at him for a while to see whether he'd crack and shy away. Instead, Chat turned to look at her with a lopsided smile, one that showed the indents of his cheeks charmingly as he waited for her reply.

“Someone that understands there's more than one option in every situation,” she answered. “I think that's the kind of person that I want to be with.”

He nodded, as though he was agreeing with her answer. “Open-minded, then.”

She smiled secretly. “That's one way to put it.”

When Chat decided to sing his song by standing up and dancing along with a popular ballad, she had tears in her eyes towards the end. However, it was no surprise that he'd failed to beat her score from how atrocious it had been.

Marinette patted the cushion beside her to make him sit down. “Winner gets anything they want, right?” she questioned, smoothing down her dress so it almost covered her knees.

“Yes?” It came out sounding like a question. “Within limits—I'm not going to drag you up a tall building where you can fall to your death, no matter how much you want it.”

She snorted. “How many damsels have asked you to do that?”

“I'm the one in distress every time I'm asked, I assure you.” He shuddered in an exaggerated way. “What would you like, Marinette?”

She raised her chin haughtily. “As I've already been blessed with you calling me by my actual name, I'd like to request something just as ambitious.”

Scooting over until their knees were touching, Chat tilted his head quizzically. “Okay, now I'm curious.”

“You're absolutely allowed to say no,” she started, tucking some hairs behind her ear again. “It's—it's kind of dumb, actually?”

In another move that showed how comfortable he was with her, Chat reached out and tapped her nose. “Stop stalling.”

She swatted his hand away, the interaction reminiscent to one from when she'd been Ladybug. “I want to kiss you—I mean, if you want to kiss me, too. I don't want to force you to do it.”

Chat audibly swallowed, staring at her with wide eyes that showed his green sclera well. “You—you want me to kiss you?”

“Only if you want to,” she reiterated, a bit embarrassed from how shocked his reaction was. Unlike the romance novels that she'd read, the love interest never seemed to jump and ravish her out of nowhere—hers preferred to talk about feelings first, and other than the twinge of guilt she felt from leading them on sometimes, it was preferable to heartless sexual activities.

Her imagination absolutely knew and supported that she preferred to be romantic.

To her surprise, Chat grimaced. “Was I being too obvious?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I—this isn't a pity thing, right?” he questioned, reaching to touch the nape of his neck before realising the suit was partially covering it. “You don't have to kiss me just because I've been complaining that you're never going to like me back.”

It really was how she'd predicted, then. As much as she wanted to laugh at how it had turned out—because, of course, the one he was infatuated had to be _her—_ the amusement she felt fizzled out when she saw how genuinely distressed he looked at that moment. The confident figure that a superhero should've been was barely ever connected to how she saw him; he had feelings, emotions, and nervous reactions that were becoming increasingly easier to identify.

Even though he couldn't feel it, she reached out and gently placed her hand on top of his. “That's not it,” she murmured, truthful. “You said you know me in your normal life, right? That means you know that _—_ that I wouldn't take advantage of your feelings like this.”

It was a bit of a stretch, but he nodded, looking at her warily.

“I'm asking because I've had fun with you this evening,” Marinette said, knowing that it wasn't fully a lie, as spending time with Chat thus far had turned out to be amusing. “But—now that I know I was who you were talking about, then I'm just not aware of your feelings normally.”

“You are now,” he muttered.

She shook her head. “Not really? I still don't know who you are—not that I'm _asking_. I'm just pointing out that I only know that Chat Noir has a crush on me.”

“No,” he interrupted. “Someone who happens to be Chat Noir has a crush on you; these aren't just feelings that appear when I sparsely see you in the streets.”

They weren't the words of a one dimensional character she'd conjured up.

“You're right,” Marinette agreed, smiling softly as leaned closer until their shoulders were touching. “And if I like who you are from one private meeting, surely, that has to translate into seeing you as a civilian, too.”

He swallowed. “You don't know that.”

“I know that you're fun to be around when you're not calling me a silly nickname,” she pointed out. “I've had a better time with you than I did with my friends before, and the night's not even over yet.”

He was the one to pull his hand out from underneath hers, resting it on his thigh instead. “That doesn't explain why you want me to kiss you, though.”

It was never going to be simple, was it? “For the same reason you want to kiss me, I imagine.”

Chat snorted. “You barely know me.”

“You're right,” she agreed without hesitation. “But that doesn't mean I don't like what I've seen so far.”

Visibly struggling with a reply, Chat parted his lips silently before pursing them.

Her smile was fond as she reached out to grab the microphone from the table. “Let's get back to our competition, shall we?”

“Marinette—”

“Your answer doesn't mean we can't have fun any more,” she said. There was no sting of rejection, since as arrogant as it sounded, she knew the vague outline for the scenario. As long as she played along rather than rejecting the flow of what was happening, she hoped that she'd complete the ridiculous setting and go back to her own bedroom, rather than continuing on to read even more text.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn't rejecting you.”

Turning to face him, Marinette looked at him instead of voicing her interest.

Chat fiddled with his gloves, a nervous tick that had no effect on his suit. “I'm not saying no, I just—can you wait for me to come to terms with it, I guess? It's not exactly normal for someone I like to only develop feelings for me when they don't really know who I am.”

It sounded eerily similar to how she'd been with Adrien when she was Ladybug. “Of course,” she agreed, choosing to not push him. “And, for what it's worth, I'm sure you'd be a pretty cool guy normally, too. Without the whole able to jump onto buildings thing—having you be a mere mortal like me would definitely be a plus.”

The laughter that escaped him wasn't forced. “You have a way with words.”

“I'm good at thinking out my options before speaking.”

Then, she sang terribly on purpose while he finished his second drink. She winced when he choked at one point, but that only made her voice quiver and waver when she was trying to draw out a note—an awful one that she was glad for the padded walls—and it made his laughter come out as wheezing after he'd recovered.

Chat tried to dance along with his song, but he won.

He was smug when he sat back down beside her. “I'm absolutely winning, right?”

She shrugged. “I haven't been keeping track, honestly.”

“What?” he questioned loudly. “I was trusting you to—”

“And I told you, I can't even remember my shopping list. You can blame yourself for us not knowing, mister,” Marinette interrupted with a wide grin, reaching out and mockingly patting his cheek. “Besides, we're equally as awful when we want to be.”

“That hurts,” he proclaimed, placing a hand over his heart as he jutted his lower lip out. “How am I supposed to live with you belittling me?”

Raising her eyebrows, Marinette pointed out, “I insulted myself in the same sentence, so that doesn't work.”

He squinted, the mask covering his eyelids and not showing any skin around his eyes. “Why do I like you again?”

“I'd like to know that, too.” She grinned widely. “All I've managed to get out of you is that I'm pretty. Are you that shallow, Chat Noir?”

“ _Me_?” Chat laughed loudly. “I should be the one asking you that—you don't even know me!”

Crossing her arms stubbornly, Marinette replied, “I didn't want to kiss you before spending a good hour in your presence, actually. I'm not lusting after your skintight suit, no matter how much it baffles me. I mean, really? It doesn't hide _anything_.”

“You see more of me than you see of others in yoga classes, I'm well aware,” he agreed, smile showing his teeth. “Are you trying to say that I'm a tolerable person?”

She looked at him in distaste. “Now you're just asking for me to feed your ego.”

“I have to know.”

“You're nice,” she admitted vaguely, leaning back against the seat. “That's why I offered to pay for you tonight—I don't do that for everyone, you know.” Well, it was more like she wasn't worried about the money she'd imagined in her purse, no matter how similar the cards had been to her own. “And it's safe to say that I'm far more attracted to your personality than your body.”

It wasn't a lie, no really. The way he'd treated her in the past, along with the banter they were able to have, were the main reasons that she wasn't protesting.

Chat rested a chin on his palm as he looked at her speculatively. “So you didn't buy me stuff to get sexual favours in return?”

“ _What_ —”

The burst of laughter that he erupted into meant that her expression must've been amusing. Marinette sighed as he continued to chortle, wondering how she got into the situation at all. Wasn't seducing strangers supposed to be easier? Yet, so far, it had been a bundle of emotions and awkward conversations where she discreetly lied to them.

The fondness that she'd started to feel for them—Adrien and Chat—was ridiculous, truly. They were figments of her imagination, the sort of person that she'd enjoy dating. And that's what all of the encounters had been—a date and food of some sort, along with conversation, rather than just diving straight into the sexual activities.

And she didn't _hate_ it.

“I'm just teasing,” he admitted, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes not hidden by the mask. “And I won, right?”

She nodded. “That round.”

Chat tilted his head curiously, a move that caused one eye to almost be completely hidden by his hair. “Do you still want to kiss me?”

“Only if it's reciprocated and not one out of pity,” Marinette answered, curious to what had caused him to change his mind so quickly. “I told you, I don't want you repaying me for the food and drinks in any way other than actual money another day.”

His smile was lopsided. “So sexual favours are definitely out?”

“They're out if they're not sincere,” she replied honestly. “I'm a big fan of having actual feelings, surprisingly.”

She tried not to notice how his eyes flickered down to her lips momentarily. “I'm the one that's had feelings for you the longest, though.”

“That doesn't diminish mine, and I'm not going to give you a medal for pining,” she shot back. “Have you considered that, maybe, I could've seen you differently if you tried to flirt with me normally?”

It was purely hypothetical; their previous encounters were purely imaginary, along with their current one, but the feelings that he conveyed appeared genuine. And that alone was baffling, really. From what she'd learned so far, she had to have been starved for affection in some way, just yearning for positive affections and longing looks.

Rather than being discouraged, Chat smiled. “I'm trying to do that now.”

“Are you sure?” Marinette muttered. “It seems more like—”

“Marinette,” he interrupted, the fondness clear in his voice. “Do I have permission to give you a kiss that definitely isn't out of pity?”

And there it was.

It seemed to be inevitable, but the fact that each of them asked permission—didn't just take while making presumptions—made her heartbeat become more apparent.

With a shy smile, Marinette agreed, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

It wasn't instantaneous. Chat moved slowly, reaching out to cup her jaw with his gloved hand, not able to see the softness of her skin or able to change that fact, and she adjusted how she was setting so she could turn towards him more freely.

Marinette was patient. There was no timer to indicate how long she had, and from how long it had felt from the previous encounters included, she had a feeling that it didn't matter in the long run—it was just while she was asleep, wasn't it? So, when his face hovered close to hers and his lips curled into a grin, she returned it with a laugh, fully acknowledging how awkward he was being.

The nervousness was refreshing, really. All of it had been; no lust-driven aggression, overly eager and sloppy interactions, or hurtful expectations. Her partners weren't going to push her for anything that she didn't want, and knowing that made it better.

She knew that if she pushed him away, he'd respect it—even if it meant she'd have to move onto another scene.

Marinette bumped her nose against his. “Aren't you going to kiss me, Chat Noir?”

The fondness was clear in his expression, even with the mask obscuring some of it. “Is that what you call asking nicely?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don't you like me for who I am?”

“Well, that's a low blow.” He whistled, smile reaching his eyes when he noticed that she'd started to scowl. “I'm sorry, I'm—I'm just stalling this out, I guess.”

For someone that she'd had sex with before, seeing him being so nervous was just as endearing as the first time. “I couldn't tell.”

“Rude.” Chat sniffed. “Maybe I'll kiss you if you close your eyes.”

She stared at him. “The eyes usually close when you start kissing, you know—”

“Being a superhero doesn't make me brave, Marinette,” he chastised lightly, pulling his head back slightly. “I'm as nervous and fragile as anyone else.”

And if that didn't make her like him any more, then the way the red stood out against his skin where it was barely visible beneath the mask did.

“I'm just a girl,” she said softly. “I'm—there's no reason to be nervous around me, not after I've heard your awful singing. Stop overthinking things, Chat.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Just a girl that I'm almost convinced I'm in love with.”

Just how _lonely_ was she?

Marinette deliberately looked at him before closing her eyes.

She was more than aware of when he moved closer, able to feel his breath against her skin, before he gently pressed his lips against hers. It wasn't the smoothest move; it was awkward and hesitant, clearly hindered by the nerves, but it was still there.

She leaned into him more, hand reaching out and resting on his thigh to keep herself balanced, and she tilted her head up for a better angle to make the both of them comfortable. It was a kiss that was just as clumsy and awkward as the previous ones she'd had—the same as everything else, apparently—but that didn't take anything away from it. Having Chat be so hesitant to show affection to her made it all the more endearing.

For once, there wasn't any clashing of teeth. Marinette wound a hand in his hair, feeling the soft strands and admiring how they felt against her skin, and responded eagerly to the kiss, able to feel his smile against her.

He was just—he was _nice_. That was the best way she could describe him.

When their movements became a lot more confident, with open mouths and entangling tongues as her breaths were coming out faster, Marinette was the one that pushed it further. She fumbled a bit, surprised that he didn't pull away when she sat up and manoeuvred so she was straddled across his lap, her dress hitched up and showing more than her thighs from before.

She didn't protest when his hands fell to her hips.

Marinette made a noise of approval as they continued to kiss, not put off from the idle instrumental song that played on the waiting screen of the long forgotten karaoke. There was no denying that the reason that she'd invited him inside had been for something other than singing, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy herself. If anything, the added bonus of fleshed out personalities made her stirring lust a lot more potent.

When she shuffled forward so their chests were almost pressed together, she managed to shift against a change in his suit.

She pulled her head back, lips wet and she looked at him in surprise. “Your suit really does bend to fit your body.”

Chat blinked. “...That's the weirdest way anyone's ever pointed out my erection to me.”

Laughing so hard that it caused her body to shake, and therefore press against him more, Marinette resisted resting her head against his shoulder. Instead, she looked him straight in the eye and bluntly asked, “You can't feel this, right?”

His raised his brow. “How many theories have you read online about my suit?”

“I'm asking to confirm my suspicions,” she lied. “It's—I don't really want this to be one-sided.”

“If that's your way of asking me to show you who I am, I'm basically legally bound not to do that,” Chat replied, smoothing his gloved hands over her thighs before settling back on her hips. “But, no, I can't feel that. I don't have this alter ego just to get up to no good with pretty girls.”

She placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “That's a shame.”

“That, however, I can definitely feel,” he murmured, doing the same back to her. “How about we go back to kissing some more?”

There was no need to argue there.

They kissed for what seemed to be minutes on end, not pushing for anything more. Marinette was comfortable seated on his lap, more than aware of the slight pressure that was against her underwear and the thin tights that she was wearing, but she had no problems with that; it was flattering, really. Even though he wasn't able to feel it through his gloves, Chat's hands trailed down and gripped her backside at point point, which made her make a noise of surprise and cause him to laugh in return.

She bit into his lower lip in retaliation.

Chat was the one that pulled away that time. “I have a proposition for you.”

With her arms draped around his shoulders, an intimate position that was amplified from where she was sitting on his lap, Marinette raised her eyebrows. “This isn't another dumb competition, is it?”

He sniffed. “First of all, I find that offensive.”

Waiting for a few seconds, she laughed. “Nothing to add onto that?”

“Hush,” he scolded, smile on his lips. “Since we haven't been keeping score, how about we make it more... interesting?”

She looked at him warily. “Usually when someone says it that way, it means they want to play a strip version of said game.”

There was no mistaking the smug smile. “Well, you're not wrong,” Chat admitted easily, not embarrassed at all. “A little different, though. If you win, I'll transform back into my normal clothes.”

The suit had to go some way, but she'd assumed that she'd have to be the one to suggest it awkwardly eventually. And yet, Chat was willingly offering it, as though he didn't care about his identity at all.

And the fact that she was concerned about his secret was hypocritical—she hadn't cared too much when she'd been with Adrien as Ladybug, but it had to be a part of the scenario somehow.

She swallowed.

“But I—you're not going to let me see you, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed, smoothing his hands over her hips. “Having it so you're looking at the screen seems like a good idea, doesn't it?”

She frowned. “There's such a thing as reflections.”

“And curiosity, but I'm potentially trusting you,” Chat agreed softly, their conversation barely audible over the waiting music that filled the room. “Unless you're willing to cover your eyes with something? I can't see it working too well with your tights, sadly. You might look like a really bad burglar.”

Marinette hit his chest lightly. “And what happens if you win, then?”

His dimples were visible as he grinned. “I think we should keep with the theme of stripping.”

“You're terrible,” she accused without any heat. “For someone that was too shy to kiss me a while ago, this is really turning over a new leaf.”

He winked. “You can't hate it so much if you're still here.”

“You're so _greasy_.”

When he gestured towards the screen behind her, Marinette made a point to turn around and sit right back down onto his lap, microphone in hand as she scrolled through and selected her song. Rather than pushing her off, Chat had an arm wrapped loosely around her waist, lips skimming over the exposed skin of her neck from where he'd pushed her hair aside.

She wasn't going to complain, but her heartbeat was reacting.

There was one point where she ended up yelping from him biting her neck, but other than that, her score was one of the highest of the evening—since she hadn't been trying to make him laugh, for once. Marinette passed the microphone back to him, turning so she was sitting sideways across his lap with one arm wrapped around his shoulders, making so she was able to see him and the screen.

Chat smiled at her before he started.

During the song, she fiddled with his hair, not pulling it or making any other distractions. She'd already decided that the competition was his way of deciding whether to reveal that side of himself to her or not, and her purposely sabotaging him wouldn't have any positive results, no matter how amusing she'd find it.

Her prediction was correct.

After the bridge of the song, his voice went shrill on purpose. He was laughing when it had finished, not ashamed at all, and he tossed the microphone to the sofa beside them before wrapping his arms back around her waist and embracing her.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused quietly, still touching his hair.

Chat rested his head against her chest. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” Marinette murmured, “but it's making me wonder how exactly I'm going to cover my eyes.”

“Because you're terrified of reflections?”

She snorted. “Someone has to care about your secrets.”

Humming, Chat pulled back and then made a show of looking around the room, inspecting it to try and see whether there was anything that they could use. When he made a move and leaned forward to reach the scarf that he'd placed on the table at the beginning, she made a noise of disagree.

“You want to blindfold me with my own scarf?” Marinette asked, not quite ready to resign herself to the fate of the fabric over her skin.

His smile was wide. “I told you, your tights aren't an option, and underneath this suit, I haven't got any clothing to tie around you. This is our only choice, I believe.”

After a few seconds of just staring it, trying to imagine it wrapped around her head like a terrible hat, Marinette muttered, “Oh, fuck it.”

“So you're fine with it?” he questioned, not jumping on her reaction immediately, awaiting confirmation instead.

“Sure,” she said, a bit exasperated. “I can't even say this is one of my fantasies, you know.”

Chat pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Why not? I think I read somewhere that bondage with Chat Noir is a popular theme for fan content.”

“You're just covering my eyes, okay?” she clarified, a bit nervous as she pushed stray hairs behind her ears. “I'm so vanilla that I have those fancy little flecks like you get in good ice cream—that's me, Chat Noir, so please don't spank me.”

He was visibly trying not to laugh as he replied, “Okay.”

The scarf felt weird over her eyes, but it wasn't an irritating material that made her want to scratch it. It was true that if she jostled it too much, it would slip down, but he'd wound it round her head twice before knotting it, and she could feel where it rested at the back of her head. It didn't obstruct all light—she hadn't expected it to—but it made it so she couldn't make out objects well, and therefore wouldn't be able to see his face.

Reaching up to touch the material over her eyes, a bit dazed from the change to her vision, and asked, “How do I look?”

“The colour really brings out your eyes.” She could practically hear his smile.

Marinette settled with crossing her arms stubbornly. “I'd hit you if I could.”

“Sometimes I have to wonder whether I'm a masochist,” Chat mused, clearly entertained by the situation. Then, with his hands on her hips, he made it so she was sitting on the seat beside him, rather than on his lap any more. “I'm going to change now, okay?”

She leaned back against the seat. “You don't need my permission.”

“I'm just warning you,” he replied. Then, after a few moments had passed, after she'd heard him mutter the words to himself that made the transformation drop, Chat called out, “Do you want to touch my shirt? It's silky.”

A laugh escaped her. “Are you trying to get me to caress you, Chat Noir?”

“It's a really nice shirt, okay,” he defended, voice quivering from restrained laughter. “I bought it to try and get you to compliment me, so please, touch it.”

As he reached out to take hold of her hand, Marinette muttered, “I swear, if you're just going to make me touch your crotch—”

He snorted. “Your faith in me is astounding.”

It was his chest that she was touched, she was sure. Marinette made a thoughtful noise as she made a show of touching the material, running her fingertips over his chest, before saying, “Why are you wearing it now if you were planning to impress me with it?”

“I can wear it at other times, Marinette,” he replied, reaching up and putting his hands onto her jaw—his actual hands, where she could feel the warmth of his skin rather than the material of his gloves. “I can't reserve it just for whenever I see you and then have only one outfit, can I?”

She huffed. “I'm more likely to pay attention to someone that's always wearing the same clothes all the time.”

“Oh, be quiet,” he murmured, breath and his voice indicating how close he was to her. “I'm going to kiss you now, okay?”

“As long as there's no restraints or anything—”

The kiss was nice.

Marinette readily returned it as well as she could, not protesting when he guided her to sit back on his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders for a sense of direction. When she shifted her hips to sit more comfortably, she became aware of his crotch once more, but when she brushed against his arousal that time, a noise escaped him that spurred her on.

With the wetness between her legs reappearing along with her racing pulse, Marinette rocked against him, glad that her dress had bunched up, with only her underwear and tights in the way of the friction that she was craving. She ran her fingers through his hair as their kiss became open-mouth, greedily accepting the affection that he was showing. From the soft hands that were against her hips to the kisses he was giving her, she was enjoying it all.

Chat was the one that pulled back, and she fumbled for a bit, opening her eyes in confusion before realising the scarf was in the way once more.

And then, he sneezed.

“I'm so sorry,” he quickly said, voice a bit high-pitched.

Marinette's body shook from her laughter.

“It—your scarf made me sneeze,” he stuttered, embarrassment clear in his tone as he sniffed.

She grinned. “It's fine for me right now.”

He made a point to kiss her again, slow and intimate, and she continued to rock against him in appreciation, pleased with the outcome of the evening. When he placed a chaste kiss to her lips before pulling away that time, she had to imagine the smug smile on his lips.

Reaching up to check that the scarf was still tied, Marinette asked, “Can you do something for me?”

“What do you have in mind?” Chat questioned, another gentle kiss applied to her jaw.

“How about taking my tights off?” she requested without hesitation. “I might fall over if I try to do it myself.”

He laughed. “It'll be my pleasure to help you out, then.”

Standing up with assistance turned out to be harder than when he'd shuffled her over to sit down. Marinette almost tripped backwards, the table touching the back of her legs, but Chat caught her to keep her steady. She let out a laugh from how ridiculous it all was before she was guided back to the seat, the warmth indicating that he'd given up his space for her.

His hands were gentle as they took off her shoes, and then he was caressing his way up her legs, pushing the material of her dress up so it pooled at her hips. With some hesitation, clearly giving her the chance to tell him to stop, Chat got a grip onto the waistband of her tights and started to pull it down, and she lifted herself up with her hands to make his job easier.

As he took his time pulling the material down, Marinette muttered, “This really isn't the time to reveal you have a foot fetish, by the way.”

He snickered. “I can promise you, I won't try and kiss your feet.”

“That's a fucking relief,” she announced with a laugh. “And I'm surprised you only did as I asked.”

The tights slipped off her feet as he murmured, “You really have this skewed image of me, don't you?”

“Hey, I was kidding,” Marinette quickly replied, trying to reassure him. “I was just—I was teasing you. I know you wouldn't do anything without making sure it was okay, but if you'd done something else, like maybe pulling my underwear down, too, I wouldn't have complained.”

He made a strangled noise. “Sometimes, you're just so forward, did you know that?”

She grinned, putting her feet on the floor. “I live to please.”

“How about I promise to take them off if you beat me at karaoke again?”

With a laugh, Marinette tried to put her head in her hands, but only got handfuls of the scarf instead. “You're absolutely obsessed with that, aren't you?”

“Rude.” He sniffed dramatically, the seat shifting beside her to indicate that he'd sat down. “You invited me in here for singing, so that's exactly what we'll do.”

“Or, hear me out“ she started, trying not to laugh. “You could use a pick-up line and say you'll make me sing instead.”

Chat let out a laugh. “I'll never be that bad.”

“Maybe that's what I'm into.” She grinned. “I guess you'll never find out.”

Surprisingly, she didn't jump when a hand settled on her shoulder. “What do you say to sitting back on me while you sing?”

“You can't see, but I'm looking at you in despair,” Marinette declared, not protesting as he helped her settle back onto his lap, her back against his chest. “And in case you're the blind one here, I can't actually see the lyrics. I can see vague shapes, but it's mostly blurry, so you've got an unfair advantage.”

His hand caressed her bare thigh, pushing up her dress to reveal more skin. “Tell me a song you know off by heart and it'll be fine,” he tried to assure her, voice close to her covered ear from the sound of it. “We have to make the most of your money, right?”

Accepting her fate, along with the microphone that he placed into her hand, Marinette said, “That depends on whether you're going to lose on purpose again.”

Chat found the song for her, and it wasn't as hard as she thought to follow along with the instrumental. She pushed up the scarf a little so it wasn't covering her nose completely, singing along quietly to the words, not quite putting a lot of effort into it.

It was only when the hand on her thigh travelled higher that her voice faltered.

Chat paused until she started singing again, fingertips brushing against the sensitive parts of her thighs before trailing over the front of her damp underwear as he placed kisses onto her neck. It was intimate and teasing all at once, and her singing turned unsteady as she squirmed from the touch, not sure whether he'd abruptly stop or continue on.

It turned out that as long as she was singing, he wouldn't stop touching her. When his fingers pushed aside her underwear in the middle, causing her to shiver and spread her legs further to allow him better access, she leaned back and rested her weight against him.

She got the lyrics wrong when he pressed against her protrusion, breath hitching from surprise.

When she got back on track, stumbling a bit to catch up the the verse, Chat gently judged a finger inside her, continuing to trail his lips across her neck, gently biting down as he started to curl his finger. It was an influx of pleasurable sensations, nothing that she was opposed to, and it seemed that he knew that as he didn't hesitate to start moving his finger, stretching her slowly.

The adjustment to two fingers wasn't difficult. Her heart was beating fast, lyrics coming out at the wrong times, but the moans that escaped seemed to please him, as she was able to feel his smile against her neck. She didn't dislike the kisses he placed, or the way his thumb glided over her sensitive nub to give her stimulation; he didn't seem as nervous as when they'd first started kissing, but perhaps that was because he wasn't acting as a superhero at that moment.

Which was ridiculous, really, because she had no idea who he was supposed to be normally. The only name she had to go for him was the one he'd adopted, along with the imagine of a blond-haired male and cat ears nestled within it.

The end of the song indicated the end to her pleasure, too, apparently. She made a noise of frustration as he pulled his hand away, and he laughed at that.

“Not bad for being blindfolded,” he praised when he told her the score.

If he could've seen, she would've scowled. Marinette settled with telling him to help her stand up in front of him after passing the microphone over, and she wasted no time in reaching out to steady herself on his knees to kneel down, a bit startled when she knocked into her shoes, kicking them away immediately.

He laughed when she fumbled with his belt.

“You're supposed to be singing,” she pointed out, making a triumphant noise when she managed to get it undone. “Come on, Chat. Now isn't the time to start slacking.”

She felt him ruffle the top of her head. “Only because you're so cute.”

“Half of my face is literally covered by a scarf.”

Chat cooed, “Absolutely adorable.”

Stubbornly, she waited until the music started to continue fiddling with his clothing. She pushed up the silky shirt—which was definitely nice to touch, and she wondered how it looked—before undoing his jeans, pulling the zip down slowly before running a hand over his clothed arousal, grinning when she heard his intake of breath.

By the time the first chorus came, she'd pulled his underwear down and grasped his member with one hand, the other still keeping her balanced by holding onto his thigh, and started to move her hand slowly. She could hear the way his pronunciation became skewed when she gripped him tightly, and how his breathy caught when she increased the pace. The sound of his voice was endearing, especially when it broke or fell flat on the notes—a clear that he wasn't trying, just like she hadn't been.

Despite how difficult it was to do, Marinette managed to direct herself so she could press a kiss to his tip before opening her mouth, taking some of him in. With her hand still on the bottom, caressing the parts that she couldn't reach in another way, she bobbed her head slowly, an inconsistent rhythm that allowed her to hear how he broke off in the middle of a verse with a moan.

She didn't protest when he put a hand on her head, though it was mostly on the scarf, rather than on her hair. As he wasn't trying to push her along—instead letting her go at her own pace—the accessory wasn't in danger of falling off, so she indulged him.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to finish the song, Marinette pulled her head back and licked her lips. “You're supposed to be singing.”

His voice was low when he spoke. “You're evil.”

Her laugh could've been described as a cackle.

When he started singing again, she went back to what she was doing. Marinette pushed up the scarf to make sure it stayed in place, sometimes pulling back and kissing his tip when she needed to take in a deeper breath than usual, and the only ache that was present was from her knees protesting the wooden floor. She ran her tongue along the underside of his member, sometimes being daring and taking more of him in than usual just to intentionally throw off his singing—as he made a strangled noise whenever she did, that sounded like a mixture of a gasp and a moan—and continued with her make-shift rhythm until the final notes sounded.

The song was over before her jaw could protest her actions.

Marinette made a show of slowly removing her mouth, reaching up to wipe it with the back of her hand afterwards.

“Help me up?” she requested.

Chat complied, assisting her so she was able to not fall over while settling back down to straddle him once more. Marinette steadied herself by holding onto his neck, knees on either side of his thighs, and readily accepted the kiss when she was comfortable.

As it turned open-mouth, a lot more frantic than it had been earlier, she reached down to pump his arousal a few times before she pulled away to murmur, “This is a bit awkward when I can't see.”

“Sorry,” he said, thumbs tracing patterns into her hips. “We can try another position, if you like?”

She pressed a kiss to his lips. “Let me take my underwear first.”

Chat helped her up to her feet once more, and once she'd discarded her underwear, hoping that it was at least near where she'd kicked her shoes, and she laughed when he pulled her close into an embrace to kiss her once more. It was quick, not one that they indulged in for too long, and before she could so much as reach out to grasp onto his shirt, Chat asked her how she wanted to be.

“However you think will be best,” she decided, adjusting the scarf and making sure it was tied tightly still. “You may have your wicked way with me, Chat.”

He chortled. “Would you have been able to say that if you were looking at me?”

“Probably not,” she agreed with a laugh. “I kind of stick to bad humour when I'm nervous.”

“It's a good thing I have a terrible sense of humour, then,” he mused, linking his fingers through hers. “Are you sure you're leaving it up to me to decide?”

She grinned. “Yes. And before you back out because we don't have anything; trust me, it's fine.”

“I can't see why I ever thought you'd be meek,” he mused.

Marinette snorted at that. “I get nervous sometimes, but no one's ever described me as that.”

“The Marinette in my imagination isn't one that's been tainted by sexual acts,” he proclaimed, giving her hand a squeeze. “But I very much like the one that I'm getting to know—it's a lot better than wondering whether I'd ever get to hold your hand.”

“You can hold my hand whenever you like, Chat,” she murmured. “But right now, I'd much prefer to be having sex with you—I'm sure we have enough time left in here.”

After asking again whether it was okay for him to decide, he kissed her lips. Marinette allowed herself to be guided until she was bent over the sofa they'd been sat on, her knees against the seat and arms crossed in front of her, creating a space to rest her head, and he ran his hands along her sides before gathering up her dress at the bottom. It was pushed up slowly, exposing more of her skin, and Marinette's face felt hot from a mixture of anticipation and her breath being caught in the scarf.

When he caressed her backside, stalling, she asked, “You're not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No, no,” Chat replied quickly, pronunciation faltering from how fast he'd answered to reassure her. “Am I not allowed to appreciate you?”

She huffed. “Appreciate me while you're doing something else.”

“Impatient,” he teased, running a finger across her arousal, “aren't you?”

Shifting her legs to get comfortable, making it so her feet were touching the edge, Marinette was fully aware that she was spreading them further. “Can you blame me?” she shot back, winding her fingers into the scarf. “You're teasing me right now.”

“You've been teasing me all night,” he replied, one hand still on her hips as she became aware of warmth that had appeared against her.

She snorted. “Hardly. I invited you inside to be your friend.”

“I don't think you're inviting me to have sex with you to be your friend,” he quipped, pressing his tip against her, slowly pushing inside in a way that wouldn't hurt her. “Are you?”

It was only when he was fully situated inside her that she let out a breath and replied, “I shouldn't have to deal with your bad jokes at a time like this.”

Purposely humming loud enough for her to hear, Chat caressed her hips as he waited for her to adjust to the sudden change. She was able to feel his body pressed against her—the warmth and softness—and the change of angle was appreciated, making it so it wasn't blurred with the previous encounters.

After a while had passed, filled only by their breaths and the waiting song from the karaoke waiting for them to start again, Chat pulled out slowly, almost to the end before he rocked back into her. There was the overwhelming feeling of building pleasure, the way her pulse was needy and demanding between her legs, and the heat on her face had already started to be unbearable, but she didn't try and move the scarf away.

Instead, she continued to hold onto it, her moans muffled as he started an inconsistent pace, his nails digging into her hips and surely leaving half-moon shapes with every thrust. It was almost maddening how slow he was at first, sometimes pausing either to catch his breath or make sure that he lasted—she couldn't tell—before starting again, the sound of his skin hitting hers starting to fill the room.

The only downside of the position meant that she wasn't getting stimulation at the front, but any protests she had were rendered null when he found the right angle, causing the noises leaving her to become louder. Her back was arched uncomfortably in a way that would hurt later, pressing her body back against him for more feeling, and she clumsily pushed her hair out of her face to try and cool herself down.

With her knees starting to get weak, Marinette's legs almost slipped when her pleasure reached her limit. As she tried to regain her breath, pushing the scarf up the best she could without ruining the purpose of it, she was aware of him rutting against her, a couple of thrusts before he shuddered against her, the grip on her hips tightening as he tried not to fall forward.

It didn't stop her from jumping from his hair touching her exposed neck.

Then, Chat made a noise of discomfort from how her body had moved, and that only caused her to laugh in return, causing him to make a wounded as he put his hand on her back to try and convey that she needed to stay still.

“My bad,” she apologised insincerely, smiling to herself. “The whole blindfold things makes it hard to know what's going on.”

He let out a breathy laugh as he pulled out of her slowly. “We both know that's a lie. You would've jumped even without the scarf on.”

Sitting up on shaky legs, Marinette made sure to try keep her dress from falling down as she turned around, holding it up around her waist. It was a feat that she was able to do it at all, only teetering on the edge for a little bit.

“These assumptions are hurtful,” she proclaimed, amused. “You're attacking me so soon after what we just did?”

“It's because you've revealed everything to me now that I'm able to do this,” he teased, the sound of rustling clothing filling the air. “And now I have to complain that we don't have any napkins.”

Leaning back against the seat, Marinette said, “I'd offer you to wipe it on my scarf, but I think just using my underwear would be the best choice. I'll use it after, I guess.”

When he went to pick up her undergarments, clearly agreeing with her, he put a hand on her knee as he leaned down to get it. “We're really sharing everything today, eh?” Chat mused, clearly close to laughter. “I never thought I'd see the day where we'd do this.”

“We had a very intense session of karaoke, that's all,” she said. “But I do have a question.”

“Oh?”

Marinette turned her head to vague direction she knew he'd be. “Who won the last round?”

 **END ROUTE:  
** _MARICHAT_

**GOOD END**

-x-

 **START ROUTE:  
** _ADRIENETTE_

With a groan, Marinette ran a hand over her face as she yawned. There was a frustrating tune playing throughout the room, one that was grating on her nerves, and as rubbed the palms of her hands into her eyes to try and wake herself up faster, she wondered whether it was all over. It—as insane as it had been, it hadn't been unpleasant.

Her body didn't hurt, thankfully.

Marinette sleepily reached out a hand when she realised that her phone was vibrating beside her, the cause of the music, and barely registered the name on the screen before she pressed it to her ear.

“Marinette?” was what she was greeted with. “Did you forget that we have plans?”

She promptly hung up, tossing the cell phone aside with wide eyes.

When she looked around the room, taking in the almost unfamiliar paint and small setting, all she could say aloud was, “What the fuck?”

It was the same bedroom she'd been in the beginning, there was no doubting it. The framed photographs were on the desk, the foreign bed, and a similar window to the one that she'd managed to climb through as Ladybug. If she was back there, repeating an instance that she'd appeared in before, that meant—

She bolted out of the bedroom door, opening the front door with enough force for it to make a noise as it hit the wall.

Adrien grinned in bemusement from her entrance.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _This is my best friend, Adrien._

“You're here,” she said dumbly, too surprised to make a smart comment.

There was only so much she could think about when a scene started to replay again. Adrien was present with a backpack filled with snacks that she could vaguely remember, the knowledge of her laptop and her personality that he shouldn't have had—not for the first, nor a second time.

And yet, she was repeating it. The only explanation was because she'd rejected him in the beginning; for all the others, she'd accepted their tentative advances, paying attention to their feelings instead of just forcing herself upon them. So, it made sense that she would have to do the same for Adrien; the guy who was her best friend in the scenario.

It seemed like she hadn't seen him in so long.

“You saw me earlier,” he pointed out, walking past her and trotting towards her bedroom, clearly expecting her to follow from the way he paused by the door, peering over his shoulder at her. “Do you want to wait a bit to wake up first?”

She shook her head. “It just feels like I haven't seen you for ages.”

“Well, you did sleep for a couple of hours,” he said, entering her bedroom and putting down the bag beside her bed. “Was it worth it?”

 **MARINETTE:  
** _He transferred here in our second year, and we grew close instantly. When I'm sad, he's always there to make me smile! There's no one else I'd rather be with._

After following him into the room, making sure the door was shut even though she had no idea who her dorm-mates were, Marinette settled down on the bed. “Well, now I get to stay in my pyjamas without changing later.”

He snorted, taking off his shoes and jacket, navigating her room with familiarity. “You would've changed into them anyway, don't try and convince me otherwise.”

“You have a really high opinion of me.” She sniffed dramatically.

As she was more coherent that time, not worrying about where she was, she was more aware of what she was wearing than the first time; the matching pyjama set that consisted of shorts, a t-shirt, a lack of underwear on underneath. From the way he hadn't stared at her attire, it seemed that it was a normal occurrence—and it was no wonder he'd read the signs to mean that she'd wanted to kiss him the last time, then.

But the Marinette from the text was still an idiot, a child-like one.

 **MARINETTE:  
** _Sometimes, when he's close to me, I wonder why he likes me. Adrien's kind, has a smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle, and he's beautiful. I don't know why he's alone, especially not when he says he'd rather spend time with me._

“It's a wonder I have any opinion of you left from the amount of times you've passed out in my bed,” he mused.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you don't like me in your bed?”

“Oh, not at all,” Adrien replied with a laugh, walking towards her desk to open the screen and input her password without any hesitation. As strange as it had been to see the first time, she was more amused by how at ease he seemed while doing it—that time, she had the knowledge of his feelings and intentions. “Your have nicer sheets, though, so I think we should both stick to yours forever.”

When he put the laptop on the end of the bed for them to watch, Marinette propped the pillows up by the top for them to lean back on, scooting over to make enough room for him as she said, “I wouldn't mind sleeping with you.”

Adrien looked visibly startled, simply looking at her before he burst into laughter, deciding that her words were a joke. “Nice try, but I'm not falling for it. You just want to put your cold feet on my legs to make me scream again.”

Well, that was a nice detail to learn. “I could touch something else to make you scream instead?”

He didn't hesitate to laugh that time, patting her head when he'd started the film and sat down beside her. “You should really keep working on your pick-up lines.”

“Why?” she shot back, slapping his hand away lightly. “I've already got you here, so I must've done something right.”

His dimples were showing as he grinned and bumped his shoulder gently against hers. “Calm down or I'll start to think that you're in love with me, Marinette.”

Fiddling with the end of her shorts, trying not to laugh as she saw his eyes dart down to her bare legs from where she hadn't covered them with the duvet, Marinette asked, “Would that be such a problem?”

He snorted. “I'm not making a pact to marry you if we both can't find someone by the time we're thirty.”

The situation was completely different. Other than Adrien's opening line—the phone call that she'd ended abruptly—their conversation had changed. It didn't seem to alter the text that appeared, and she had to wonder whether the two options would be unaltered, too. She had enough experience to know that the kiss that had been hinted at originally wouldn't be the end of it, but she wasn't too opposed.

Although she'd gotten to know Chat Noir better—more intimately, too—Adrien had redeemed himself and had made her feel comfortable before. He was attractive, sure, and his personality was more than decent, but it was the familiarity with how he interacted with her that was his most endearing feature. And the fact that she knew that the food he'd brought along in his backpack were ones that she liked.

So, she didn't hesitate to propose, “How about going on a date with me first?”

She could see him swallow. “Stop leading me on and watch the film we decided on last week.”

“I'm only listening to you because you're cute.” she replied, bringing her knees up to her chest to get comfortable, purposely leaning against him.

Just like before, she was aware of him glancing at her every now and then. Instead of calling him out on it as she did before, Marinette purposely tucked her hair behind her ear, leaning into him more after she'd stretched, and tried to keep his attention whenever he looked her way by fidgeting.

It worked until halfway through.

“Are you okay?” Adrien questioned, reaching out to place the back of his hand against her forehead. “You're not ill, are you?”

She had to laugh. “I—that's not it, you idiot.”

He pulled his hand back with a frown. “What's wrong, then? I thought you were excited to see this, but you're barely paying attention.”

The atmosphere was completely different. It wasn't the awkward one from before; if anything, it was worse as he wasn't reading the hints, nor responding to her advances in the way that she wanted. Had he always been so oblivious? When she'd been Ladybug, it hadn't taken long for her flirting to be responded to, but, perhaps, it was different when they were supposed to be best friends.

“You're ruining my master plan, you know,” Marinette settled with saying, tilting her head to look up at him from where she was leaned against his shoulder. “You should at least feel a little bit bad about it.”

His brow was furrowed. “I don't even know what you're talking about.”

The film was left playing, but neither was of them paying attention to it.

Marinette mirrored his previous frown. “Considering you played my flirting off as jokes, I'm not surprised.”

Adrien looked at her strangely. “Flirting?”

“Yes, genius,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“That's—you don't _flirt_ with me,” he defended, sounding a bit lost. “We joke and stuff, yes, but you don't—you've never flirted before.”

Then what had prompted him to try and kiss her before? Marinette had been acting so out of place in the first setting, completely thrown off and confused by the interactions, but she'd made it through to the options.

And yet, with her pitiful attempts at flirting shut down before they could be fully acknowledged, Adrien was just looking at her as though she wasn't feeling well. The relationship he supposedly had with her couldn't have been too different if he hadn't called her out of character—but the confident way of flirting she was using wasn't being reciprocated.

She raised her eyebrows. “Am I not allowed to start now?”

“You—you can't have a sudden epiphany that you want to flirt with me,” he said, visibly flustered as he ran a hand through his hair, messing up the blond strands further. “It doesn't make any sense.”

Even though she messed up with him before, she seemed to be doing it again.

“That's not it at all. I didn't just wake up and decide that I wanted to try and seduce you or something,” she started softly, sitting upright by herself so they weren't touching any more. It wasn't really a lie—she was sure that she was still asleep. “It's—if doing stuff like this is normal for us, how am I expected not to look further into it?”

Adrien put his hands on his lap, fiddling with his fingers, as he replied, “It's normal for friends to be close, you know. I never thought you'd think something like that.”

She scowled. “I literally don't have any underwear on right now, and that's not something I'm comfortable to do with friends.”

He looked like he swallowed something sour.

“I'm not doing this to be a dick or just tease you, Adrien,” Marinette continued on, tugging her shorts down a bit as she began to sit with her legs crossed, her knee touching his jeans-clad thigh. “It's—I _like_ you, and I was being dumb instead of saying it outright.”

“You—” Adrien paused to clear his throat. “You like me?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, choosing instead to let out a disbelieving laugh. “Yes, you idiot.”

And she did, really. The time she'd spent with him as Ladybug had been nice, especially when he'd been so considerate of her identity, enough to ruin his pride with a pillow and the blanket. She was still choosing to believe that he and Chat were personifications of a partner that she wanted to have in reality; someone that was caring and with a sense of humour that she could understand—and not to mention attentive during sex.

Rather than having an intelligent reply, Adrien blurted out, “You like me and you have no underwear on.”

For a while, she'd thought he'd just skimmed over that. “If you want the specifics, then I have no bra, too,” Marinette added on, grinning.

With a groan, he buried his face in his hands. “What is going on?”

It was a line that was more fitting for her, but it made her laugh nonetheless. “An awkward confession?” she supplied, moving closer to bump their shoulders together. “You haven't actually given me an answer, by the way. But I'm leaning towards a positive one since you're still here with me.”

“I'm so—I thought you didn't _like_ me,” Adrien mumbled, running one hand through his hair before they both dropped to his lap. “I'm so sure I would've noticed if you—if you ever started to.”

“You didn't notice my grand seduction plan that even included inviting you to share my bed,” she pointed out, voice quivering from trying not to laugh. “Is it so bad that you were oblivious to it?”

For the first time in a while, he turned to look directly at her as he exclaimed, “ _Yes_! I-I've liked you for so long, but now you're telling me that it's mutual and I didn't even—”

“Well, now you know,” Marinette interjected softly, placing her hand gently onto his thigh. “Do you really want to dwell on the past?”

With the Marinette from the text, even. Marinette was convinced that that version of herself never would've confessed to any of them—but thinking that was insane, as none of it was even _real_. There was no use thinking of the two of them as separate beings, but whenever she read the text that popped up, it all seemed so childish and naïve, so completely different to her that she couldn't connect them.

Rather than answering, Adrien stared at her with surprise, as though that thought hadn't occurred to him at all.

It was then that the scene around her froze.

 **A:  
** _I'm being silly. Adrien wouldn't look at me that way._

 **B:  
** _I... I think he might want to kiss me._

Her first instinct was to groan from the dramatic unveiling of the text, the speed of which it appeared slower than it took for her to make her decision.

“Oh, come on, it's obvious by now!” she complained, pointing an accusatory finger to where it was displayed in her vision. “ _B_!”

It was a mixture of eagernesses to be intimate with him and return back to her reality—because, surely, he had to be the last obstacle that she had to tackle; the one that she'd rejected in the beginning.

As life bled back into her surroundings, Adrien's expression became soft and fond, his smile reaching his green-coloured eyes as he gazed at her. And slowly, timidly, he placed his hand upon her own that was on his thigh, a gentle presence that seemed like such a feat from him, and it was almost as though he was expecting her to recoil away.

She chose to return the smile instead. “So, what do you say?”

He blinked. “What?”

A laugh escaped her. “You... I still haven't gotten a reply to my confession.”

The realisation was clear on his face. “Shouldn't it be obvious?”

“That doesn't mean it's not nice to hear it,” she pointed out, leaning into him as he pulled her knees up to her chest again, a more comfortable position. “Are you going to leave me wallowing in doubt for long?”

“You're hardly wallowing,” Adrien said with a laugh. “But if it'll make you happy, then, yes, I will.”

She stared, waiting to see whether he'd add anything onto that before she replied, “That doesn't count, you know.”

Adrien sniffed dramatically. “I'm working up to it, okay? I had—I always thought about how I'd say it, but now I've been put on the spot, I'm not quite sure how to.”

“Easy, just say you like me.” She grinned obnoxiously. “It's not too hard, is it?”

“I'm question why I like you at all now,” he announced, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure you're the same Marinette as always?”

It was so ridiculous that it made her laugh. Marinette rested her head against his shoulder, body shaking from her amusement, and it only prompted her further when he raised his free hand to pat her head, ruffling her hair on purpose.

She could feel it when Adrien said, “I really like you, Marinette. I have for months, but I... was scared, I guess? I didn't want to ruin our friendship with my feelings.”

She faked a gasp. “No, really?”

While laughing, he pushed her away lightly. “Don't be mean,” he scolded, stubbornly taking his hand away from hers and crossing her arms. “That took a lot of courage, okay?”

With a fond smile, Marinette squeezed his thigh. “It was sweet, thank you.”

“So,” he started, visibly faltering for words before he settled with just closing his mouth, looking at her.

She raised her eyebrows and parroted back, “So?”

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out.

Marinette tried to smother her laughter by putting a hand over her mouth. He—he was just _sweet_. “Yes, you can,” she confirmed, hand dropping down to settle on her knees that were against her chest. “Thank you for asking.”

The top of his ears had turned red. “I feel like you're making fun of me.”

“No, you're just making it clear why I like you so much,” she boldly admitted, just to see whether he'd get more flustered. “You're a really sweet guy, Adrien. Why wouldn't I like you?”

“I don't know,” he said with a shrug. “I thought we wouldn't get past being best friends—and that was a feat in itself. I was so sure you thought I was dumb for the longest time.”

She smiled softly. “I still think you're dumb, but that's the best thing about you.”

“What?” he spluttered. “That I make you feel smart?”

“No, not at all,” she replied quickly, not realising that he could've taken her words that way. “I mean that you're... open with me? If that's the best word for it. I like your personality most.”

He squinted. “Is that a nice way of calling me ugly?”

Rolling her eyes, Marinette said, “I don't need to feed your ego, mister. You're well aware that you're attractive. I was being nice and saying that you're more than just a pretty face to me.”

It wasn't a lie, not really; she'd been put off from pursuing him intimately in the beginning due barely knowing his personality. The anonymity of Ladybug had revealed something new about him, details that she wouldn't mind seeing again.

Tapping his chin with one finger to be dramatic, he mused, “You're just trying to sweet talk me.”

“I'm trying to get you to shut up and kiss me already,” she shot back, smile reaching her eyes. “Are you really going to keep me waiting forever?”

He returned the smile while leaning into her.

The kiss was sweet.

Marinette accidentally clashed her teeth against his when she tried to move closer and into a better position, but they both laughed it off before his soft lips were pressed against hers once more, her arms wound around his neck and holding him close. She didn't flinch when his hands found their way underneath her shirt, running his fingertips over her lower back as their kiss became open-mouthed and less hesitant.

With her pulse becoming apparent between her legs and her face starting to feel warm from the mixture of his breath and skin against her own, Marinette was the one to guide them into a new position. She readily fisted her hands into his shirt, tugging him along so he'd climb on top of her as she lowered down with her head against the pillows, more comfortable than they had been when sitting up. She made a noise of approval as he shifted, pushing her shorts up with the movement, and happily moved her legs so they were on either side, allowing him to press against her hesitantly.

The way he seemed to think about everything before he did it was endearing. From the soft touches on her skin, to the kiss that gradually became bolder, and eventually his crotch pressing against hers, the fabric stopping it from being too pleasurable.

With one arm pressed against the mattress to keep himself propped up, Marinette was momentarily startled when the other was placed upon her clothed breast, cupping her hesitantly, as though he was expecting her to push his hand away.

So, she did one better. Marinette reached up to hold his hand, moving it down to go underneath her shirt before placing it on her bare breast. He picked up on her silent request immediately, starting to knead her breast as she wound her arms around his shoulders again, breaking away from the kiss to bury her face in his neck, the skin there feeling cool against her own.

It was a bit awkward at first, with Adrien fumbling for a bit before he managed to brush his thumb against the sensitive part that made her swallow. Marinette's eyes were shut as she rolled her hips, purposely pressing against him in the process, trying to make her intentions clear.

He rocked them back into her, the action clearly more pleasurable for him than it was for her. The clothing in the way only caused her to be frustrated with the movement, but it was gradual, and she didn't want to push him too quickly and have him back away once more. It would've been more of a stinging rejection after they'd started to get intimate.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to back away, Marinette reached down to fiddle with his belt, holding her breath to see whether it was too soon.

His response was to lean down to bite her neck gently.

She moaned in appreciation, fiddling for a bit before she managed to undo the buttons of his jeans. The zip soon joined in, and she ran her hand purposely against his clothed arousal, before she said, “You should really join me.”

Adrien made a curious noise before he placed a kiss onto her neck.

“Without the underwear, I mean,” she clarified, face feeling hot before her blunder. “I wouldn't mind the rest coming of, too. I'd really like that, actually—”

With a groan, he extracted his hand from underneath her shirt, running it through his hair instead as he moved to sit on the bed beside her, no longer hovering over her. “You're trying to kill me,” Adrien announced, voice a bit thick. “Aren't you?”

She grinned, not bothering to pull her shirt down from where it had ridden up. “I'm trying to get you naked, but okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated back to her, his eyes focused on her legs before they flickered back up to meet her gaze, the only indication that they'd been intimate the redness that had appeared on his cheeks. “I'll take it all off if you do, too.”

Marinette looked at him in surprise. “That doesn't sound very romantic.”

“Neither does confessing your feelings while wearing no underwear,” he shot back with a laugh. “What do you say?”

It was an easy answer. “I'm not going to reject such a nice offer.”

There wasn't any purposely slow stripping. Adrien almost tripped when he tried to step out of his jeans, having to reach out and steady himself on the mattress, and she'd laughed so hard that she hid her face in the pillow to get his dramatically jutted out lower lip out of sight. It was silly, filled with good humour, and when she tugged her t-shirt off, she threw it at him before lounging back and waiting to see his reaction when he looked at her again.

It was worth it to see the way his eyes kept flickering between her face and her body, trying not to keep his attention on once place.

There was no duvet or pillow trying to keep him from not looking at her. Adrien was bare, and she was able to freely see every dip and curve of his body, even the bashful way he looked away before taking in a visible breath and meeting her eyes again.

“We should probably move the laptop,” she mused, pointing towards the device that was on the edge of the bed, threatening to fall off at any moment. “I can't say I was paying attention to the film at all.”

He laughed at that. “You kind of made it your mission to steal my attention, too.”

She grinned. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

The laptop was closed and placed onto her desk,beside one of the framed pictures of the two of them that was still strange to see, and she readily patted the mattress beside her to try and lure him in.

Adrien rolled his eyes fondly at that. “You don't have to treat me like a dog, you know.”

“But you're such a good boy,” she cooed, pulling him into a hug when he really did sit down where she wanted him to. “Don't you want me to pet you?”

“I don't want you to touch me in that way.”

And she had to laugh at that, surprised from how honest he was being. Even though she was supposed to know a lot about him—and he believed that she did—it was still nice to be surprised from the shifts in conversations, even more so than when she had to take their feelings into consideration. Telling him that she had a crush on him was a lot better for her feelings than when she'd rejected him in the beginning—and the retelling of the scene was pointing to that, too.

She cupped his jaw as she asked“And how do you want me to touch you, then?”

Adrien didn't look embarrassed as he easily replied, “Like you'd touch your boyfriend.”

She blinked. “Are you asking me out?”

The hand that she was touching his jaw with was covered gently by his own warm hand. “While asking for you to touch me? Yes.”

“That's—” Marinette paused to let out a laugh. “That's probably the best one I've ever had.”

Moving his head, he pressed a kiss into her open palm. “That's kind of the goal here; I don't want to be mediocre.”

She answered in amusement, “Oh, there's nothing mediocre about you.”

“Well, that's a nice compliment,” Adrien replied, threading his fingers through hers and letting their hands fall down to his bare thigh. “But you haven't given me an answer.”

What was the harm of it? Sure, it made her feel a little bit guilty to lead them on, especially when Adrien was asking for something more, but it wasn't as though they were _real_.

“You can absolutely be my boyfriend,” she agreed, squeezing his hand. “I've always want to try dating a dork.”

He snorted. “You never told me this life ambition.”

“It appeared when you did.” She grinned. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“You really know how to make my heart flutter.”

She bumped her nose lightly against his. “What would happen if I kissed you again?”

“Honestly, I might pass out,” Adrien said, his smile showing his teeth.

Thankfully, he didn't.

Their kiss was less hesitant, a lot more intimate with the bare skin that was on display, and he was the one to coax her to rest against the mattress again. Marinette readily spread her legs for him to situate himself between them, one hand keeping himself propped up as the other trailed down her abdomen before purposely brushing between her legs, waiting to see whether she'd push him away again.

With open-mouthed kisses, she let out a moan of approval as he slipped a finger inside her, not teasing or taking his time. Adrien continued to kiss her throughout, his hand moving slowly, thumb brushing against her sensitive nub as he did so, and she raised her hips to try and allow him easier access. The demanding pulse between her legs was there, ever-present and thundering, and her face had already felt heated, but when the feeling of his finger was combined with his tongue, it made her pull away with a gasp.

A second finger joined the first, stretching her open gently without any pain present, and she had her head against the pillow, one hand gripping the duvet beneath them. The noises escaping her were increasing in volume with each caress of his fingers, and her eyes were scrunched closed, her nose tickled every now and then from his fringe.

He was the one to pull away.

She opened her eyes in confusion when he moved off of her, standing up and picking up his discarded trousers and reaching for his wallet. With the small foil packet in his hand, Adrien looked at her for confirmation.

She grinned in response, and that was enough.

“I should've gotten that earlier,” he said as an apology as he tore it open. “I just—I wasn't really thinking.”

She wetted her lips.

It was the first time in a while that one was present, but she wasn't going to complain that it was a waste when it wasn't needed. Marinette was on her back once more after he'd discarded the packet aside—missing her bin—and readily opened her legs for him to fit between them.

Adrien kissed her again before he had one hand on his arousal, guiding it towards the correct position slowly. She hissed a little from the protrusion, but the pain disappeared when he waited before pushing in fully. When he was fully within her, she wound her arms around his neck, shifting to get more comfortable as he stayed still, giving her time to adjust.

“I'm fine,” she reassured him when they made eye contact, smiling softly. “You can move.”

His smile was beautiful.

His movements were slow at first, and she raised her hips to meet each thrust, her eyes closed as she took in unsteady breaths with every sound of their skin meeting filling the air. Adrien gripped her hip with one hand, nails digging into her skin as he rocked against her, and the moans were tumbling from both of their lips, getting rid of any of the silence that remained.

The position led to his skin brushing against her protrusion with every thrust, and it caused the building pleasure in her abdomen become more apparent with each passing moment. Her breaths were coming fast, damp hair sticking to her forehead, and the stickiness between her legs meant that each roll of his hips was accompanied by noise.

She buried her fingers in his blond hair, tugging at the strands a little when the sensations were getting too much, and the answering moan that escaped his lips was more than worth it.

Adrien kissed her again, and it was open-mouthed and enthusiastic, no longer gentle and trying to convey feelings. Clumsy was a good way to describe it as his tongue darted out with each thrust of his lips, a sort of desperation present, and she was the one to break away when her legs tightened around him.

She let out a deep breath afterwards, only just aware of him shuddering above her.

Marinette brushed the hair out of his flushed face, returning his shaky smile once he'd opened his eyes and started to try and recover.

With a wince, he pulled out slowly, pressing a kiss to her cheek before excusing himself to the bathroom. She stared up at the ceiling, a bit dazed from how the scene had played out, but she didn't know how much time she had left.

It was always random. Sometimes, she'd blinked and her surroundings had changed in an instant, while others she'd excused herself to another room before it had happened; all she knew was that she hadn't been present long enough for there to be much affection afterwards.

Yet, when he came back into the room with the sweet smile on his face and climbed into bed beside her, she returned it easily and scooted over so he join place his head on the pillow, too.

“Hey, you,” she greeted, voice a bit scratchy.

He didn't hesitate to reach out and hold her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Hi, girlfriend.”

She couldn't stop herself from laughing fondly. “You're still not over that, are you?”

“It feels like a dream, really.”

That just made her laugh harder.

They just talked for a bit until Marinette excused herself to the toilet, tidying up slowly and taking her time, movements sluggish as she waited for the change in surroundings to appear spontaneously. After she'd brushed her hair, she climbed back over Adrien to get into bed, grinning when he pointedly kissed the top of her head before suggesting that they try and watch the film again.

It was still one that she'd seen in reality, but she enjoyed it. Adrien made amusing comments throughout, keeping her entertained when the scenes were trailing on and not keeping her attention, and somewhere through the middle, she'd cuddled up to his side, an arm thrown over his waist and resting her head against his shoulder. It wasn't optimal to see the screen fully, but it was comfortable.

When the film came to the credits, Adrien remembered the food that he'd brought along. They chose to watch a television show instead, snacking on the food so neither of them would have to get dressed and venture out into the kitchen—where her unknown dorm-mates could possibly be—and she was more than relieved when he pulled out some drinks, too.

It wasn't the first time that food and drink had been provided for her, but it was still a surprise.

She looked at him fondly. “You really think of everything.”

After they'd finished the food, Marinette had crawled over so she was taking his place to have him hugging her from behind instead as they pulled the duvet up to cover them. With her head resting on his arm, she smiled to herself, pleased with the warmth and how trusting the position was.

As much as she'd liked being with Chat, he hadn't been able to offer such simple things. They couldn't have lazily embraced on the rooftop without discomfort, and when she'd been with Adrien before, the pillow or duvet had been in the way.

It was the best scenario so far, she decided as she felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Is there anywhere you want to go together tomorrow?” he asked, trying to decide on a setting for their date.

It didn't make her feel too guilty, not any more.

With a smile that he couldn't see, she said, “Well, we could always go sing karaoke.”

“Isn't the nearest one that shady place that doesn't even have cameras?” Adrien questioned, sounding reluctant. “I'd rather go somewhere else where we're not likely to get stabbed.”

She really tried not to laugh. “Yes, getting stabbed in one of those rooms sounds like the worst time.”

He flicked her shoulder lightly. “We could just go out and get something to eat—you know, keep it simple.”

“I'm fine with anything,” Marinette answered truthfully. It wasn't as though it would last enough for it to happen. “It can be up to you to surprise me.”

“Don't be silly, you hate surprises,” Adrien retorted. “Let's just go to the new café that opened up.”

It had to have been vague on purpose. “That sounds nice,” she admitted. “As long as you buy me cake.”

“I'll buy you _all_ the cake, girlfriend.”

“You really need to stop calling me that,” Marinette said with a laugh. “It almost makes you sound like a caveman.”

“Sorry,” he apologised insincerely, brushing her hair aside to kiss her shoulder. “I'm still trying to process it, I think.”

Truly, he was an example of what she wanted.

After they started focusing on the television show again, Marinette's eyes were starting to get tired. She stretched her arms out in front of her, back arching as she did so, and she brushed against his crotch in the process and stilled.

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

Adrien was a bit embarrassed as he replied, “Can you blame me?”

“Well, kind of,” she mused, a bit entertained from how she hadn't noticed it before. “I sure hope it's because of me rather than the sloppy kiss we just witnessed.”

He snorted. “You're literally in my arms without any clothing on, of course it's because of you.”

“We should do something about it, then, shouldn't we?” Marinette murmured, her back still against his chest as she turned her head to kiss him.

Rather than replying, Adrien enthusiastically returned the kiss, hands on her body as his fingertips traced soothing patterns into her skin, an idle movement that was filled with affection that she hadn't had for months. The way he and Chat always seemed to be enamoured with her, their feelings more than just sexual, was clearly something that she was craving, especially when it was combined with intimate acts.

The fact that he'd just placed kisses on her shoulder randomly while they were watching something made her swallow audibly. It—it was more than a sexual fantasy, all the scenarios equally baffling and endearing at once.

With his arousal nudging between her legs, she was the one that shifted up the bed slightly, getting into a better position for him to slowly slide into her. There was some protest, but it wasn't enough to make her want to stop. Marinette held her breath once he was fully situated within her, breaking the kiss to turn her head back naturally, and she smiled when Adrien reached up to push her face off of her face.

“Thanks,” she murmured, not surprised by his thoughtfulness.

His response was to kiss her neck.

She was the one to move first, shifting her hips before pushing back into him on purpose, spurred on by the throaty noise that escaped him. She continued for a few times, her hands winding into the duvet still on top of them, and she didn't protest when he started to rock back into her, making the sound of their skin slapping more pronounced.

With closed eyes and parted lips, Marinette indulged herself in the sensations; the kisses to her neck, the gentle bites before he sucked for a moment or two, not quite leaving marks, and the pleasure she was getting from his thrusts. When he reached down to trail his fingertips over her sensitive nub, she let out a moan of approval, gladly allowing him to do what he pleased.

She might've moaned his name at one point.

The thundering of her pulse was demanding, and the warmth within her abdomen was building. Marinette raised her hips and let out a gasp with each thrust that had force behind it, the different position helping to bring new feelings to the experience, and—

Adrien shuddered against hers.

She wasn't too disappointed, though. She tried to stay as still as possible as he recovered, not wanting to cause him discomfort, and it was a little while after that he gingerly pulled out, resting his damp head against her shoulder as he let out an audible breath.

She could feel it when he stilled against her. “We didn't use anything.”

“It's fine,” Marinette replied, trying not to let her amusement show. “Trust me.”

From his lack of reply, she had to assume that he was doing so.

“I really hope you're not expecting round three,” she mused after they'd caught their breaths, reaching behind to clumsily thread her fingers into his hair. “I'm exhausted.”

He laughed weakly. “I think I'm dead from just two. It was really ambitious.”

She snorted. “At least help me clean up before we crash.”

As strange as it was that she was able to stay long enough to have sex with him twice—with a few hours between where they'd watched stuff to fill the time—Marinette was even more confused when she was still present and climbing into bed with him beside her with the darkness outside showing through the window.

Was she expected to to do something else? The ending text hadn't appeared, and she knew that there wouldn't be able prompts after the option selection. And yet, she'd been with Adrien for hours, and with him smiling sweetly at her before he reached to turn the lamp off, she had to wonder how long it would go on for.

There was only so much she could yearn for.

As it turned out, she started the morning by screaming in surprise.

Marinette had rubbed at her face sleepily, wondering whether she'd forgotten to close the curtain due to the sunshine that was directed on her face, before she saw that there was a figure in the bed beside her.

After the shriek, Adrien was startled, sitting up in his panic and looking around with suddenly wide eyes. “Marinette?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. “What?”

She cleared her throat to try and gain some control. “I—nightmare,” she said lamely. “I had a nightmare, sorry.”

His shoulders sagged in relief. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, voice cracking a bit from sleep. “I've read somewhere that it might help.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I don't really remember what it was about now.”

His smile was interrupted by a yawn. “What time is it?”

“No idea,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair. “Do we have anything to do today?”

“You mean other than our date?” he said with a wink. “No, not that I'm aware of.”

No classes, then. As little as she knew about the Marinette from the text, she didn't want to learn from having to live through her life for a day. But—what else was there for her to do? She'd accepted Adrien's feelings, as compared to the last time, and even agreed to being his girlfriend instead of rejecting him, and it wasn't as though she needed for her feelings to be genuine.

Except they kind of were. She felt fond of Adrien and Chat, increasingly so with every additional moment she had with them, but that didn't mean _anything_. They were imaginary—figments of her mind—and she was using them to live out fantasies that she hadn't even known she'd had.

But what was the fantasy with Adrien?

All of it was pointing at having a loving boyfriend.

So, she went along with it. They talked about silly topics to wake up, fingers intertwined as they stayed in bed for a while longer, and when they finally decided to get up, Marinette offered to let him use her shower first, instead of walking back to his own room.

Before he disappeared into the bathroom, he offered with a lopsided smile, “You could always join me, you know.”

Marinette only laughed.

Then, when she heard the water starting to run, she wondered whether that was what she needed to do. There wasn't much soreness between her legs, not noticeable enough to become apparent when she stood up and stretch, and although it wasn't optimal for cleaning, it would be fun, at least.

It was worth it to see his surprised face when she wandered in, hands covered in foam from the shampoo. She opened the shower door with a grin, stepping into the warm water beside him. The shower was was tight for the two of them, but they were able to move, not squished together uncomfortably. It only caused the water to spray on her face awkwardly, meaning she raised a hand to push her suddenly wet hair away from her eyes.

“Hey,” she greeted lamely.

Adrien smiled, dimples showing as he reached out and started to wash her hair.

She laughed. “Thanks?”

“Sharing is caring,” he recited, continuing to rub it into her dark strands. “We can't have your hair looking bad later, can we?”

There was something nice about seeing him with his wet hair pushed back, cheeks flushed from the heat of the water, and the way he was standing tall beside her, her head coming to his chest. It was a lot more noticeable than when they were just sat beside each other, especially when the space was small.

“It'll only look bad if you don't put enough conditioner in it.”

“Me?” he raised his eyebrows. “I'm not your servant.”

She tried to bat her eyelashes, but she only succeeded in getting water in them and furiously blinking to try and get rid of the odd feeling. “It's romantic.”

“Right, I forgot the ultimate fantasy is to have someone wash you,” he mused, purposely taking a step back and pulling her further under the spray to wash away the shampoo. “I'll try my best to re-enact that for you.”

As he said, he made a show of rubbing the shower gel across her skin. Marinette had to stifle her laughter at times, ticklish from his movements, and when he started to avoid her breasts and between her legs on purpose, she reached out and hit his shoulder lightly in protest.

He only laughed, having to bend down to trail his hands over her legs. It also caused her to get a mouthful of his hair when he leaned too close, and she spluttered and accidentally inhaled some water as she did so, her facial features pinched in distaste when he went back to standing up straight with a large grin.

“Are you still sure this is romantic?” he questioned, clearly amused.

She squinted. “Considering how wonderful I smell right now? A bit.”

He snorted.

Then, she looked between his legs pointedly to notice his arousal as she added on, “It might be more romantic if you actually, you know, _touch_ me.”

Adrien laughed. “I don't know what you mean.”

“There's parts of me that you haven't cleaned,” she said, gesturing with her hands to her breasts first. “You've touched them before, you can do it again.”

Humming in contemplation, he tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “I can't tell if that's supposed to be a pep-talk or not.”

“It's encouragement for you to have sex with me,” Marinette shot back without hesitation. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

With a grin, he pushed his hair back again. “I was just teasing you.”

“Great,” she muttered. “Please touch me before the hot water runs out.”

After getting some more shower gel, he did. Adrien was clearly amused as he ran his hand across one of her breasts, purposely pinching her nipple lightly before he pulled away and cleaned the underside of her chest, touch light and almost ticklish when he started to run down her waist, trailing over her hips before he touched her backside with both hands. As she put her hands on his chest, leaning into him and trying to keep her eyes from the falling water, she finally let out a noise of approval when his hand ran over her cleft, touching her protrusion before he retreated.

She didn't protest as he turned her around so her hands were on the tiled wall, able to feel his arousal against her backside. She stood on her toes, trying to make up for the height difference, and waited as he tried to get the right position.

All the came was laughter.

“This is so _hard_ ,” Adrien announced after some fumbling, no longer trying to lower himself behind her. “I never thought it would be like this.”

She burst into a fit of laughter, too busy chortling to reply. There was the charm that he had again; rather than be embarrassed by their failure, he was amused instead.

They finished their shower normally—well, as normal as it could be with two people in a tight space. As she only had one towel available, Marinette waited for a bit while he dried himself off before passing the towel over to her, and after her hair was patted a bit, she padded back into the bedroom to see that him lounging on the bed, clothing still scattered on the floor.

She raised her eyebrows. “Expecting something?”

“To make up for my failures?” he supplied with a grin.

“That doesn't sound so bad,” she admitted, taking off the towel and tossing it towards the desk chair. Stopping him from sitting up by putting one hand on his chest, Marinette readily straddled him, smile widening when she saw the way his eyes darted across her body before back up to her face. “But you did just spend all that time to clean me.”

Adrien huffed, placing his hands on her hips. “We can always shower again.”

“I don't think so, it wasn't very efficient,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she tucked wet hairs behind her ear. “And don't we have somewhere to be later?”

With a pointed look to where she was sitting on him. “The keyword there is later.”

Marinette laughed, her body shaking from it. When she'd finally calmed down—which took a while, as looking at his smug face had caused her to burst into chortles again—she didn't hesitate to raise herself up and put her weight onto her knees on either side of his thighs, using one hand to guide his member to the correct angle.

She sunk down on him with ease, waiting patiently as she allowed her body to adjust as she spied at the way his wet hair was brushed off of his face carelessly, and how his parted lips were slightly chapped, green-coloured eyes only for her as he shifted his hips slightly to get comfortable.

It was a somewhat familiar sight, and it took her a moment to realise why.

“You're—you're not close, are you?” she asked suspiciously.

He looked at her in confusion. “We've only just started.”

She held up her hands in a sign of surrender. “I'm just saying, it's perfectly normal—”

Adrien purposely moved his hips to make a point.

With a laugh, she placed her hands on his chest to steady herself, pushing herself up until just the tip was inside before sinking back down with a moan of approval, one that was mirrored by him. The rhythm that she set wasn't consistent or fast; Marinette allowed herself to catch her breath at times, staying still for a little bit before moving again, and the way he lifted his hips to meet her each time added a new feelings.

To see the way his facial features scrunched up in pleasure was arousing, along with the flush on his cheeks that started to have nothing to do with the shower any more. Between the times where she closed her eyes and let out a particularly loud noise as he rocked into her, she peeked at his expression, able to feel her thundering pulse thumping in response.

From the way his eyelashes had blond on the ends to the flecks of different shades of green within his irides, she was able to make out his features from their close distance. At some point, keeping herself upright grew too tiring, and she leaned into him, her chest almost pressed against his as she pressed their lips together, the kiss as desperate and sloppy as their other movements.

The angle meant that stimulation was being applied to her protrusion, and her breaths were coming out unsteady as he held onto her hips, thrusting up with more energy than she was able to show.

She fell limp on top of him suddenly, breath catching in her throat, and he continued to rut against her, seeking his own pleasure. It was a few thrusts later that he shuddered, the hands that had been holding onto her hips falling off as he gasped, and she was smiling happily when he opened her eyes.

He returned the smile lazily. “Hey, you.”

“Hi,” she breathed.

Adrien reached up and tucked some hair behind her ear. “You're really pretty.”

“And you're pretty sappy,” she replied, pleased with the compliment nonetheless.

“Only for you,” he agreed without hesitation. “Would you be offended if I said I wanted to go use my own shower so I can get new clothes?”

She shook her head. “No, I get it.”

After slowly lifting herself up and getting off of him, Marinette rested against the mattress, her face pressed into the pillow as she released a sigh of relief. They talked for a little, with Adrien picking up the towel that she'd tossed aside to wipe themselves for the time being, and she didn't have it in her to care that it was the last clean towel.

As much as none of it was real, she kind of wished that it was.

When Adrien kissed her before he left—the clothes from the previous day back on—she returned it enthusiastically, knowing that it would be the last.

“I'll see you in a bit,” he said, pressing their foreheads together. “We're still going to that café, yes?”

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. “Yeah, we are.”

He grinned, visibly pleased with her answer. “Bye, girlfriend.”

When it became clear that he wanted her to respond in kind, she rolled her eyes before saying, “Good-bye, boyfriend.”

The text appeared as soon as the door closed.

 **END ROUTE:  
** _ADRIENETTE_

**TRUE END**

-x-

Waking up in her own room was disorientating, to say the least.

Marinette groaned, rubbing at her tired eyes, feeling as though she'd slept for far too long. Yet, her cell phone said that it was late morning, the lack of alarm making it so she slept long enough for her days off from university.

Stretching proved that there wasn't anything different about her body. No magical marks from the two men she'd slept with, let alone an ache that would remind her of what had happened.

It didn't stop her from looking, though.

When she stepped out of the shower and wipe the condensation away on the mirror, she stared at herself for longer than necessary. There wasn't anything different, and she definitely looked the same as she had in the different scenarios, but she knew that it was reality.

There was no text, no charming men that she had to sweep off their feet—as her reactions had mattered—and that actually made her feel a bit sad.

She laughed, putting a hand on her face. “I'm being ridiculous,” she muttered incredulously. “That—that was just a messed up sex dream.”

As there wasn't a chance of her waking up to be a superhero, then she definitely wasn't going to meet her cheerful partner, nor a new edition to her university that would become her best friend.

Her desk had no framed pictures of unknown faces, and she didn't have text prompting her on what to do. So, Marinette dressed slowly, picking out a dress that would be fit for the weather before she tucked her belongings into a small bag, putting it on her back as she went for a walk to clear her head.

After picking up a bottled drink at a nearby shop, she caught sight of some flyers that were advertising a newly-opened café.

It hurt to swallow.

She took a picture of it, to make sure she got the location right, and found herself walking there before she could talk herself out of it. It was ridiculous—of course it was—but she was indulging in her fantasy for a while longer until it really hit her that she was back in reality.

There was a queue outside the door, but that didn't stop her from joining on the end. Marinette fiddled with her phone, replying to the messages from her friends, even checking up on her parents, as she waited, fidgeting on the spot and growing more nervous.

The interior of the store didn't interest her, but she did keep looking around to see if she'd recognise anyone. She saw a class-mate that she wasn't too well acquainted with—to which she lifted her chin in greeting to them, and they returned with a shy wave—before she shuffled along, closer to the till.

When she got to the front of the line, she'd decided to pick one of the specials off of the board.

“Hey, welcome,” was her greeting, and she froze as the cashier turned around to face her fully. “What can I get for you today?”

There was no mistaking his voice, not when it was combined with the blond hair and green eyes that she'd grown increasingly familiar with.

Marinette stared, parted lips silent as she couldn't quite find the words to answer to him.

Adrien—as his nametag confirmed—look at her curiously. “Oh, you look familiar,” he mused. “Do we know each other?”

She spluttered. “I—I don't think so.”

“If you're sure,” he easily replied, dimples showing as he smiled. “Now, what do you want to order?”

After a moment of continuing to stare at him, Marinette asked for the first drink she saw on the menu. She fumbled when she tried to get her purse out, ended up throwing coins at him instead of putting them into his hand, and her face felt warm as she trudged to the other end of the counter, waiting to pick up her order while trying to avoid the way he looked at her every now and then.

When her drink came, his number was scrawled on the sleeve.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com) (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑♥


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